And So It Begins
by DaughterofDuck
Summary: What if the Dursley's had been a little more cruel? What if Harry had been a bit more Slytherin? These are the events that follow. Harry takes his first steps into a whole new world and soon finds it's pretty much like his old one. He just has to learn the new rules.
1. Of Mice and Men and Serpents Too

**Of Mice and Men and Serpents too.**

When Aunt Petunia had shaved off his hair, saying it looked like a filthy bird's nest, and it had grown back by the next morning, Harry had been sure something strange was going on. Hair didn't do that, he was sure. His Aunt and Uncle had definitely thought something strange was going on aswell. What wasn't strange was the fact that he got the blame for it.

Aunt Petunia had screamed when she saw him and he got a hard clip round the ear and thrown back into his cupboard. They didn't let him out for three days. He was five.

When he was seven and Dudley and his friends had been 'Harry Hunting' and suddenly he found himself on the roof of the school, Harry couldn't figure it out. The school nurse insisted that he had blacked out and climbed up there somehow. But Harry knew there hadn't been enough time.

But he didn't tell the school nurse that. He kept quiet like usual and decided to think on it some more.

When Uncle Vernon had asked him what had happed, Harry had half shrugged.

"I don't know, Sir. It was like magic."

The blood had drained from his Aunt and Uncle's faces. Then Uncle Vernon had gone bright red with purple splotches and Harry knew he was in the worst kind of trouble. That was the first time he felt the lash of Uncle Vernon's belt. The only sound he allowed himself to make was a sharp hiss as the last stroke ran over the one before it.

In his cupboard that night, when he was absolutely sure the rest of the house was asleep, Harry let tears come to his eyes. But not because of the pain. He had pushed that away in the hours spent laying on his thread bare cot mattress. But because it didn't make any sense. It wasn't his fault strange things kept happening. It was so frustrating when things didn't make sense. Harry liked answers.

He soon wiped them away on his pillow. Crying was no use. No one ever gave him any answers. He had to find them himself. He closed his eyes and calmed his mind, thinking about the field of tall straw-like grass and colourful wild flowers that he had seen on TV once. He sat in the field and felt the grass on his skin, smelt the country breeze tainted with the sweet scent of the flowers surrounding him. He imagined the breeze lifting the ends of his now chin length hair and rustling through the grass and distant leaves on distant trees. It was the happy place he'd build in his head so far away from anyone else.

He replayed the day over again. One minute he'd been seconds from his cousin's clutches, the next he was on the roof looking down at his stupid cousin's fat face. It was like he teleported. But that wasn't possible, was it?

"NEVER SAY THAT WORD AGAIN! THERE'S NO SUCH THING." His Uncle had yelled as he brought the belt down for a fourth and final time.

But what explanation was there, if not magic? And they lied. His Aunt and Uncle. They lied about him all the time. What if magic was real? And he had it?

Harry shifted slightly and felt the dried blood on his back pull his skin tight. Alone in his cupboard, he grimaced. The sparks of pain were beginning to creep back in now he'd thought about it and Harry began to focus again on pushing it away. On being only in his mind and not his body, like he had done so many times before, trapped in the darkness of his cupboard. Far away in his field.

If he was magic, couldn't he heal himself?

He started imagining his back and what it probably looked like. He focused on the image of the cut sealing back together and the bruising fading. How much he needed to heal like he had needed to get away form Dudley. He kept that image in his head for hours until he drifted from meditation to sleep.

When he awoke the next morning to heavy feet on the stairs above him he found the pain gone. In it's place was a bone deep tiredness and a hunger he had never felt before, like someone had carved out his stomach. Hesitantly he reached one aching arm up to where the highest welt had been. He felt the crusted blood on his skin but no open wound. His skin was bumpy though. He had scars, he realised.

Well what was one or two more, he wondered bitterly to himself. There were two on his left arm, where Uncle Vernon had broken it, pushing him down the stairs. He'd hadn't let anyone walk behind him since. There was also the remnants of a rather nasty gash from when Dudley had purposeful rode his new BMX into him. It now sat gathering dust in the garden shed practically new still. There were others that Harry thought were so faint and small that he was the only one who could see them.

And, of course there was the lightening shaped scar on his forehead that he got the day both his parents had died in a car crash.

He slipped a clean shirt over his head, still marvelling at his healed wounds. It was as he did that he realised he would have to act as though he were still hurt. Magic was real. He'd proved it. But from last night's punishment, he knew better than to show it off. He fell back to sleep to the sound of his cousin's high pitched whinge and his stomach grumbling.

They didn't let him out of the cupboard for two weeks which was the longest he'd ever been banished to his tiny room. He got bread and water once a day. It made the acting easier either way. He spent most of his time practising his magic. It left him really tired but he managed to make one of his soldier's hover for a moment by the time his punishment was up.

And so for the next three years Harry practised so that when he was powerful enough, he could leave and no one would hurt him ever again.

By the time the occupants of Number Four Privet Drive were making their way to the Zoo for Dudley's eleventh birthday, Harry no longer felt so tired after he'd healed himself. He was still very hungry afterwards but he was hungry most of the time. He'd taken to stealing food where ever and when ever he could, including the supermarket and at school. He'd only been caught once, years ago. It had resulted in a broken arm and he'd learnt to be better at it.

He could move things much easier as well. He'd taught himself to unlock his cupboard so he could sneak food in the middle of the night and to keep himself warm in his cupboard when it got cold. He never used his power on his relatives, as tempting as it often was, he just wasn't strong enough yet. And he knew the beating he'd take in retribution wasn't worth it. If there was one thing the Dursley's had taught him, it was patience.

When he was in the library he looked at books on anatomy and science trying to better understand his magic and how it worked. At first he'd looked into fiction as his best source of a magical education. As entertaining as some of them had been it soon became clear that vague fantastical imaginings aimed at children were not going to help him, even if they did occasionally give him ideas.

Once he understood how the body worked better, his healing abilities had gotten better aswell. He could still feel the scars on his back when he finished but they were much smaller and less textured now. Harry had even managed to quicken the healing of what he was sure had been a wrist fracture. Within four days it had been almost as good as new. It only ached when he'd been writing for a long time.

When he began to outgrow the school's library the year before he had gone in search of a public library and returned there as often as he could.

Harry sat in the back of the car with Dudley and his friend, Piers. It didn't take them long to begin throwing jibes his way. Harry shrugged them off. They weren't anything he hadn't heard a thousand times before. He felt the anger bubble up inside him when they started talking about his parents but he pushed it aside and continued to stare out the window.

He wasn't really sure why they'd brought him along. When Aunt Petunia had said Mrs Figg couldn't watch him, Harry had hoped he could sneak away to the Library again. But she insisted he couldn't be left alone in her precious house. He'd blow it up or something. His Aunt and Uncle were too stupid to realise as much as he hated it there and hated them, he had no where else to go. Not yet.

When Uncle Vernon complained about motorcyclists, Harry remembered his dream about the flying motorcycle. He wondered if he could really make himself fly with magic. He idled away the rest of the journey turning that thought over in his mind. If he could hold a pocket of condensed air beneath him, could he use it to give himself lift? Maybe repulse himself off the ground? But how would he stabilise so he didn't break his own neck?

Uncle Vernon pulled him aside in the carpark after they got out of the car, grabbing his arm with much more force than was necessary.

"I want none of your nonsense today, Boy." His face reddening as he spoke. "You will not ruin today for Dudley. Be thankful you're here at all."

"Yes, Sir." Harry answered, wiping the spit from his face with a glare when his Uncle turned away.

He trailed after his relatives and glanced at the animals as he passed. He wasn't very interested in the Zoo. He felt abit sorry for the creatures. They were locked in cages just like him. Of course looking into the creatures eyes he could see they were of lower intelligence so maybe it wasn't as bad for them as it was for him. Ignorance was bliss and all that.

Mostly he watched his cousin and Piers. He wanted to know the moment they got bored of the enclosures and started a round of Harry Hunting. So far it was like they had forgotten he was there. Just the way he liked it.

They were banging and pressing their faces against the glass in the reptile room. The snake on the other side appeared to be asleep. How she slept through all the noise, he didn't know. They soon tired and moved on to the next tank.

Harry wandered up to the snake. She was pretty, he thought. Her scales were a nice mottled green.

"Hello." He said quietly.

The snake opened his eyes and peered at him. He was a little shocked but he kept his face an impassive mask.

"Do you understand me?" He asked cautiously.

The snake nodded at him. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Dudley and his friend were still occupied further along the room. He looked back to the snake, it's eyes moving over him with an intelligence the other animals lacked. It was assessing him. Friend or Foe? He rather liked it.

"I'm Harry. What's your name?" He asked.

"I am Tiago." The snake hissed, it's tongue tasting the air.

"Sorry about him." Harry shrugged over his shoulder at his cousin. "I suppose you get that a lot."

The snake nodded looking up at him with curious eyes.

"I've never spoken to a boy before." The snake uncoiled herself some more inching towards the glass.

Harry smirked and gave a little snort.

"I've never spoken to a snake before."

Tiago made a stuttered hissing that Harry took to be a chuckle. He'd always thought he was funny and here was the proof. Harry thought the snake would enjoy his commentary on his pig of a cousin and his walrus of an uncle.

Then Harry heard Dudley's overly loud voice close to his ear and was violently pushed to the floor.

"Mummy! Dad! Come look! Potter got the snake to move." He shrieked pressing his face to the glass once more.

Not since Dudley and his friends had beaten up the new kid in their school almost two years ago had anyone wanted to talk to him. And Tiago had seemed interested. She hadn't told him to go away at least. His elbow throbbed where he had hit it on the stone floor and he was sure to have a large bruise up one thigh in the morning. Harry watched Dudley bang on the glass like he did to Harry cupboard door, demanding the snake do something.

It all made Harry angry. And with the anger came a heat. It momentarily filled his body and then the glass was gone. Dudley fell face first into the snake's enclosure. Seeing her opportunity, Tiago slithered over the wall and on to the floor, sending many people to panic.

"Thanks" She hissed to Harry as she passed.

Harry just blinked as he watched her bid for freedom.

Dudley's shrill cry and Aunt Petunia's scream drew his attention and he saw that the glass was mysteriously back in place, with his cousin trapped inside. He felt his lips twitch into a smirk but quickly crushed it as he looked for his Uncle.

True to form, his Uncle had turned a purple colour and was scowling at him from across the room. There was no doubt he was in trouble again. He hated how his magic was not always under his control.


	2. The Great Privit Drive Escape

**The Great Privit Drive Escape**.

When the first letter came, Harry had hid it immediately. He had tried to forget all day that a letter had come with his name on it. Green ink and heavy paper. Mr H. J Potter, the cupboard under the stairs. Instead he concentrated on the long list of chores his Aunt had given him and avoiding Dudley's new Smelting's stick.

By the end of the day, he'd been so tired and bruised that he had forgotten about the hastily hidden letter under his mattress and fallen asleep.

The next day when the post came, Aunt Petunia went to retrieve it and let out a shriek. She'd scurried back to the kitchen and hustled Harry and his cousin out into the hall. Even Dudley's cries that he wasn't done eating hadn't made any difference.

Dudley pushed Harry away to make sure he got the best spot to listen at the door. Not that Harry had expected it, he never got the first or best of anything. Instead, he laid down on the ground and listened from under the door.

He didn't hear much. Aunt Petunia was whispering and Uncle Vernon was mumbling. He just had to wait for him to lose his temper and then the whole street would know what had happened.

"There's two!" He made out his Aunt's shrill tones.

His Uncle grumbled back. There was the sound of ripping paper and his Uncle's voice rose.

"He won't be going!"

Harry jumped up and took a step back. Dudley didn't bother. The kitchen door was swung open and Harry watched as Uncle Vernon came towards him red faced.

He grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door of his cupboard. As his Uncle fumbled with the lock, Aunt Petunia called Dudley in to finish his breakfast. His cousin gave him a smug look before he left.

Harry ducked his head to avoid hitting it as his Uncle threw him backwards into his cupboard.

"Wait till I get back, boy." With that he closed the door and locked it behind him.

He sat in the darkness and listened as his Uncle left, pondering what he'd done now. It was half an hour later when he remembered the letter he'd stashed.

His cousin was upstairs and his Aunt was in the living room. He could hear the mid-morning news on the television. He had hours until his Uncle got back from work.

It was a risk but Harry decided to take it. As silently as possible, he slid the letter out from under his mattress. The letter had been sealed with deep purple wax and a 'H' had been stamped into it.

As carefully and quietly as he could he broke the seal and pulled out the letter inside. Harry tucked the envelope under his mattress once more and held the paper to the slim beam of light that came round the edges of the door. He read through it carefully.

Was it some kind of joke?

Dudley and his friends would often play tricks on him. He saw through most of them straight away. But this was far too elaborate. Even the quality of the paper. He read it through again.

Harry knew Dudley wouldn't be so stupid as to send a letter like this. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was magic and even Dudley wasn't allowed to talk about magic. He'd even heard him insist to his friends that magic wasn't real.

But Harry knew that wasn't true. He could do magic. He could move things without touching them. He'd grown his hair back in a night and teleported himself to the roof of the school. He could heal his body just by concentrating hard enough. And there was the whole accidental episode at the Zoo.

There was a school for people like him. And he'd been invited.

The question was, now what?

He didn't have any money and even if he did where could he buy a cauldron or any of these magic books? These Wizards could tell he had magic and that he lived under the stairs but they didn't know he lived with non-magical people? That he didn't know any of this stuff? And what did they mean by 'we await your owl'?

Once he'd read the letter over again twice he slid the envelope back out and put his letter safely inside. Deciding that under the mattress was not a good enough hiding spot, he pried open one of the loose floor boards at the edge of his cupboard.

There was only a few crumbs inside the hole from the last time he'd managed to steal some bread. Hiding the letter safely inside he went over the conundrum in his head.

If he didn't accept, would they forget about him and give his place to someone else?

When Uncle Vernon had come home, he and Aunt Petunia had had a franticly whispered conversation in the kitchen that he could only just make out from his cupboard. After, Uncle Vernon had opened his cupboard and attempted to hunch down to be at eye level with Harry.

This being something he had never done before, Harry was instantly alert and wary.

He explained that the cupboard was getting too small for him and that he was getting Dudley's second bedroom. It had taken a moment for the shock to pass and for the pieces to fall into place for him. He'd got another letter this morning. Possibly two thinking to what he'd heard earlier at the crack at the kitchen door.

And his Uncle wasn't letting him go. He didn't even tell Harry about the letters. Not that that was a surprise. But they were worried. Worried that someone else knew.

After that he 'enjoyed' the expanse that was Dudley's room. It was barren with a bare bed frame that Harry suspected his Uncle had actually picked up at the dump. They hadn't bothered with a new mattress, he still had his old lumpy cot mattress, so even though he had space he still slept hunched up under his thread bare sheet. It was colder in Dudley's second bedroom aswell. Harry suspected it was because of the single window. There was a broken desk, a broken wardrobe, whose door hung off, and an assortment of Dudley's broken toys. He wasn't sure he liked it.

After that no more letter's came.

His was still tucked in his cupboard. He hadn't found an opportunity to retrieve it yet. He just had to wait until he had to get cleaning supplies from his cupboard next. The last two times his Aunt had been hovering and he didn't get the chance.

He knew he was supposed to reply by the thirty-first of July and the date was rapidly approaching. Every time he was allowed into the garden he looked around for an owl. Unless it was some kind of code he wasn't getting, he assumed Wizards used owls for post like carrier pigeons. But he didn't see any. He'd even managed to steal a sheet of paper and a pencil and wrote a reply asking for more information that he kept folded up in his pocket.

That was why, as he waited for it to turn midnight and for his eleventh year to begin, he was particularly melancholy. He would be one step closer to getting away from the Dursley's forever. Usually that thought buoyed him when he knew his birthday would be like every other day of his life. It didn't matter that he didn't get presents or cake because it wouldn't be too long before he was gone. Before he could escape.

But 'gone' had seemed much closer this year. He could have gone to magic school and learned how to do things with his power. More than he could now. That opportunity seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

The bright red numbers on Dudley's old alarm clock that Harry had found not to be broken, flicked over showing it was twelve o'clock.

"Happy Birthday to me." He said quietly into the empty room before rolling over and falling to sleep.

The following day went just like any other. Uncle Vernon shouted at him to wake up while banging on the door. Harry went down stairs and begun making breakfast for the Dursley's, careful to drop a slice of toast so he could have some. Uncle Vernon read the newspaper, Dudley stuffed his face and Aunt Petunia delighted at the fact soon Harry would be going to Stonewall High and out from under everyone's feet.

Then there was a knock on the door.

The Dursley's didn't take too kindly to their nice normal morning being interrupted by the giant of a man. Harry didn't take too kindly to finding out he had been lied to his whole life. He shouldn't have been surprised, they lied all the time about him, why not his parents too?

When Hagrid revealed that Harry had received and opened one of his letters, he tried not to shrink under his Aunt and Uncles hateful glares. Hagrid didn't seem to be able to read people like Harry could and completely missed the tension building in the room. He just went on about how when they didn't get his reply, Professor Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to go get him. The Headmaster trusted the idiot for some reason.

The adults argued with each other about whether Harry could go to Hogwarts or not. Eventually it seemed like the Dursley's had no choice but to let him go.

Then, as suddenly as he arrived, Hagrid was off with Harry in tow, to a place called Diagon Alley. It took a while on the train getting to London and the journey was made more difficult by Hagid's size. He had to duck through ever doorway and people had to get out of his way.

He asked Hagrid about the Wizarding World and quickly learnt about the existence of the Ministry of Magic, the Wizarding Governing body and Gringotts, the Wizarding bank run by Goblins as the giant read the Wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet. He took the man's opinions on things with a pinch of salt, doubting they were even his opinions to begin with. They were probably Dumbledore's words as Hagrid spoke highly of him.

Soon they arrived in London and made their way to Diagon Alley.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles walk right by it and never notice it." Hagrid explained as they entered.

A man called to Hagrid from behind the bar, offering him a drink.

"Not today Tom. I'm showing Young Harry here where to get his school supplies." Hagrid bellowed back.

Tom's eyes slide to him and then widened. Harry frowned.

"Merlin's beard. It's Harry Potter!"

The pub fell silent and Harry froze. Everyone had stopped to stare at him with wide eyes. Then suddenly they were all on their feet, moving towards him. Someone grabbed his hand and Harry tried to pull away but the man hung on shaking it.

It felt warm and disturbing. He didn't know when the last person to touch him like that had been but he quickly decided he didn't like it.

"It's so good to meet you, Mr Potter. So good."

He moved and a woman tried to sweep him up in her arms but he swiftly moved back and bumped into Hagrid.

"Alright, Alright!" Hagrid didn't seem to notice his distress but the man behind the bar did. "Don't mob the boy. Go back to your drinks."

The crowd dissipated and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Tom a nod of thanks and followed Hagrid as he pointed over to a table in the corner and he gratefully sat down.

"What was that? Why were they all..." he drifted off not knowing how to describe what had just happened.

Then Hagrid began to explain about the night his parents died. He thought about the nightmare he had sometimes. The man laughing. The woman screaming. The burst of green light. He'd always thought it was the car crash that he was remembering. But no. It was the night his parents were murdered by a dark wizard.

"What happened to him? You-know-who. He's gone, right?" Harry asked shaking himself out of his thoughts.

"Some say he's gone for good. Codswallop, I say. I think he's still out there. Too tired to go on..." Hagid's' voice lowered even more and Harry supressed a shiver.

Their first stop was Gringotts bank to get out his money. The Goblins had unnerved him slightly with their sharp claws and pointed teeth but he had been careful not to let it show. He answered there bows with a bow himself with the same amount of lean. Hagrid was a bit short with the creatures, which Harry could tell they didn't like, so he had been as polite as possible without over doing it. He didn't want them to think he was mocking them.

Griphook had shown him to his vault and had explained the Wizarding coins to him when he asked politely. The money itself had been one of the biggest shocks of the day. He was rich. He vowed to himself to be careful with it though. He wouldn't let himself spend it on things he didn't need.

Hagrid was also retrieving something for the Headmaster and that vault was even deeper within the cave system that sat under Gringotts. By the time they reached the lobby again Hagrid was decidedly green. Getting out in the air didn't seem to help.

Envisioning having to leave the glorious Alley before he'd had a look around, he quickly came up with a plan.

"Why don't you go back to the Leaky Cauldron and settle your stomach. I've got my list." He waved the copy of the letter Hagrid had given him.

"Oh I don't know." Hagrid spoke slower than before. "How about I drop you of to get your robes fitted and I'll pick you up in a bit."

Hagrid had been kind to him but Harry could tell he wasn't very smart. He didn't want to follow him around either. He could do it himself. He thought the giant would probably go for it if he framed it right.

"You should rest Hagrid. You are quite green." He put a lot of concern into his voice. "I can do it. My Aunt lets me go shopping all the time."

That seemed to put him at ease. It wasn't even that much of a lie. His Aunt did send him shopping on occasion but usually only to the shop around the corner. The furthest he went by himself was the public library and if he got run over by a bus on the way, as far as his relatives were concerned, good.

"You're a good lad, Harry. You meet me back where we came in. And stay in this street, you can get everything here. You don't want to be going down any of the alley's at the side." The man pointed to a particularly dark one just off Gringotts. "Knockturn Alley in particular, nothing down there but trouble."

Harry smiled and nodded at him. Then the giant ambled off slightly unsteady on his feet.

He looked down at his list again. When Hagrid had shown up he had decided to pretend he didn't know anything about magic just mentioned the accidental bouts his relatives had also witnessed. It was better that everyone underestimated him and he didn't want his relatives to know he'd been practising all this time.

The letter Hagrid had given him was exactly like the one he had read before except it was addressed to the smallest bedroom. The list was exactly the same:

 **First-year students will require:**

 **Uniform**

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

 **Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times**.

 **Books**

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

 **Other Equipment**

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad.[1]

 **PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.**

The first thing he wanted was a wand. He could do magic without one but Wizards had to have them for a reason. It must make magic easier. Or stronger. It didn't matter he wanted one.

As he had followed Hagrid to the bank, Harry had carefully memorised his surroundings. It was something he did when he was somewhere new. It was always a good plan to know where you could run or hide, where the exits and entrances were. He'd been trapped too many times by Dudley and his gang to forget that.

So he remembered exactly where Olivander's wand makers had been.

He pushed open the door and peered into the darkened storefront. There was no one in sight but a bell had rung when he pushed open the door so the owner should know he was there.

Suddenly a grey haired man with pale eyes appeared behind the counter.

"Ahhh. Mister Potter. I've been expecting you." The man said, studying him.

Harry took an immediate dislike to the man. He knew he'd flattened his fringe over his scar after the crowd in the pub. The man shouldn't have just known it was him. He assumed he was Ollivander as the man waved his wand and a tape measure came towards him and started taking measurements.

"Which is your wand hand, Mr Potter?" Ollivander asked.

He could use either hand to write with but he supposed he favoured his right. Holding it out the tape measure began floating around his arm, taking measurements at every conceivable angle.

"I remember when your parents came to get their wands. James Potter 11 inches, Mahogany, pliable. And little Lily Evans. It was Willow for her, 10 and a quarter inches, quite swishy. Good for Charms." As the old man wittered about wands he searched the bookshelves behind the counter that was filled with boxes.

He pulled a box off the shelf and pulled out the wand inside.

"Try this. 11 inches, Oak with unicorn hair. Give it a wave." He told him putting the wand in Harry's hand.

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit stupid. Still he gave it a half hearted wave. His magic rose to his hand but he could tell it didn't like the wand that sat there. It swelled as though trying to push the wand away. The vase that had been sitting on the counter shattered. Ollivander quickly snatched the wand away from him. He took his own wand out and repaired the vase.

Harry frowned at him. There was no need to grab. He forced his face carefully blank again before the man turned back again with another wand. He cracked the glass in the windows, broke the vase once again and knocked over a few stacks of wands before something different happened.

Eleven inches, Holly wood with a Phoenix feather core. As soon as the wand was in his hand he knew it was the one. A familiar warmth tingled up his arm, coalescing in his hand. As he waved it gold and silver sparks flew out the end. He couldn't help the half smile that came to his face. It didn't last long.

"Curious, very curious." Ollivander said seemingly to himself.

"What's curious, Sir?" He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry looked down at his wand. He could feel his magic reach out to it and the wand reaching back to him. It was his. Harry decided it didn't particularly matter but he would try to find a book on wands anyway.

"How much, Sir?" He said instead.

"That will be seven Galleons, Mr Potter."

Harry exchanged the money and left as quickly as he could without running. He thought Ollivander was probably a creep on purpose. Look how mystical wands are. I'm so mysterious and strange.

Next, he supposed he should get a trunk to carry his things in. He bought one in middling range with a lightweight charm, protective wards and a password to open it. The owner had been helpful and not at all mad. He'd kept his scar carefully covered and owner had assumed he was a 'muggleborn' with all the questions he asked.

He couldn't help but think if muggles could have magic children then there must be some kind of how to, introduction to all things wizard guide. He added that to the extra books he thought he should buy. He might not need them for lessons but Harry wasn't going to stick out here if he could help it. The whole celebrity thing was a kink in his plan.

Then he entered Madam Malkin's Robes. A woman immediately bustled up to him.

"Hogwarts, dearie?" She asked cheerfully.

He nodded, giving the store a once over. There were a hundred different fabrics on show in a thousand different colours. He tried not to let the shabby state of his clothes make him embarrassed.

"Right this way. There's another boy getting his school robes." She chatted on and put a hand on his shoulder to lead him through to the back. Harry stiffened but managed not to shrug it off.

There was another boy about his age getting fitted. He was taller than Harry but not by much. He had platinum blonde hair and a slightly pinched face. He turned to Harry and looked him over when he stood on a stool next to him. Another tape measure began floating round him taking measurements, momentarily distracting him from the boy.

"Hullo. Hogwarts too?" The blonde asked Harry.

"Yes." The woman doing his fitting threw a black cloth over his head and began pining it together.

"My Father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands." He drawled at Harry the same way Dudley did to Uncle Vernon's colleagues. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

He got the feeling that the boy was trying to impress him...

"Do you have your own broom?" and simultaneously make sure he knew he wasn't as good as him.

"No." Harry answered breezily, like it didn't matter to him in the slightest.

The twitch of the blondes eyebrows told Harry he was displeased with his tone but he carried on anyway.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No." He answered again sounding bored.

Harry kept his eyes mostly fixed on the mirror in front of him. He could see the doorway that led to the front of the store and the woman who moved round him pinning material in place. The mirror in front of the blonde showed his haughty expression.

"I do," He told Harry as though that made him superior. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Harry vowed to himself to read every book he bought before September. He was at a complete loss.

"No." Harry added Quidditch to his list of books and definitely something about Hogwarts.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry gave a non-committal hum and wished he could find something interesting to say. Even if he didn't particularly like the boy he didn't want him to think he was stupid. He didn't want to give away that he didn't have a clue about the Wizarding world either. But he could remember what the titles to the books on his list were.

"What do you think will be your favourite subject?" Harry asked.

The boy puffed up abit, pleased that he seemed to be taking an interest.

"Oh Potions, of course. Professor Snape is an old family friend and has given me a few private lessons. He's the youngest Potion Master ever, you know. And of course I'm interested in Defence Against the Dark Arts but Father says the classes are a joke. No one has held the post for more than a year for as long as anyone can remember and Dumbledore always hires idiots to teach."

He rambled on until the woman doing his fitting told him he was finished, handing over his uniform in a parcel. Harry had paid close attention sorting fact from opinion. Although he was pleased not everyone liked this Dumbledore. He wouldn't be alone if he took a disliking to the man too.

"Well, see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." The boy swaggered out in search of his parents.

Harry sighed as soon as he was gone. Now he was alone, Harry turned to the woman he assumed was Madam Malkin.

"What do Wizards wear on weekends? I'll need pyjama's too." There was no way he was taking Dudley's rags with him. He was staring afresh after all.


	3. Knowledge Isn't Power Until It's Applied

**Knowledge isn't power until it's applied**

He packed all his new clothes in his new trunk right there in the store. He'd have to wear his hand-me-downs until Hogwarts. He wouldn't put it past Aunt Petunia to throw all his new clothes away, even the muggle looking trousers and shirts, or possibly even burn them.

As much as he'd like to do the same with Dudley's old clothes, Harry knew he'd have to save them too. He'd stuff them at the bottom of his trunk. He couldn't let anyone see them. Children were cruel. Adults too sometimes.

He whizzed round the remaining shops collecting his cauldron, potions ingredients, a telescope and all the other things on his list. He picked up a pamphlet on proper quill care and a small knife to keep them sharp.

Finally he found himself at Flourish and Blotts.

Harry liked books. At first he'd gone to the little school library to hide from Dudley and his friends but it didn't take him long to realize that the library was an excellent place to be. He couldn't do well at his school work or face his Uncle's wrath but that didn't mean he couldn't understand it. The plan had always been to wait until Secondary school, when he would be away from Dudley, to really show how smart he was. He would have found a way to hide his grades from the Dursleys. Now he didn't have to. Dudley couldn't compete with him in magic.

So now he was in a whole new world, he knew he needed to learn all about it.

He found all his school books in short order then he went in search of the rest. Quidditch through the ages, So you've found out magic's real (a book aimed at muggleborns to familiarize themselves with the wizarding world), Hogwarts, a history, Curses and counter-curses (Bewitch your friends and befuddle your enemies with the latest revenges...), The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and a book entitled Manners and Etiquette for the polite young Wizard all soon found there way into his pile.

He couldn't find anything on wands, much to his disappointment.

He felt almost giddy when he took his books up to the counter. He'd never owned so many books before. Only really the ones in Dudley's second bedroom which was now his. He only had a few and none as good as magic books.

Harry didn't let the feeling take over as he was paying. He still needed to figure out a way so he could read them in the month before he left for school. He had catching up to do.

Hagrid was drunk. Even though he seemed a happy drunk Harry kept carefully out of arms reach. When Hagrid noticed him, he bellowed his name causing every eye to turn towards them once more. And there were more people this time. The giant didn't wait to see if Harry was joining him at his table, he'd already turned back to the man in the cloak who was talking to him.

Harry allowed himself to frown. Now what?

Tom, from behind the bar earlier, seemed to notice once again and called out to Hagrid.

"'Supposed to be taking young Harry home now. Aren't ya Hagrid?"

Hagrid nodded, split his drink on his friend and heaved himself out of the chair. As he unsteadily made his way over to them, Tom tiptoed and stage whispered to a slightly swaying Hagrid.

"Why don't you take him on the Knight Bus? It would be a good thing for Young Harry to know, don't you think?"

"Oh good idea Tom." Hagrid slurred and made his way to the door.

Tom nodded to Harry and he returned the gesture, quickly following Hagrid. Harry decided to forgive Tom for shouting out his name earlier in the day.

"Now the Knigh' Bus is easy, Harry. You jus' hold your wand out to the road." And he thrust his umbrella forwards at the almost empty muggle street.

There was a boom and the air blew into his face and then a triple decker blue bus stood before him. The conductor was already reading though his speech about emergency Wizarding travel. He fell into his chair as the bus took off at unbelievable speeds. Half an hour later, the conductor called out for Little Whinging, Surrey and Harry got up and went to the exit.

Hagrid gave him a wave as he got off. The Giant was staying on the bus and heading for Hogwarts. His very important package had to be delivered to the 'Great Albus Dumbledore'. He watched the bus disappear once more. He still had the envelope that held his train ticket in his hand.

Quickly tucking it away in his new school trunk, Harry took in his surroundings. He wasn't too far from the Dursley's but it would be quite the trek. With a sigh he set off, concentrating on his conundrum.

How was he to keep his things? There was no way the Dursley's would let him put his trunk in his new room. They wouldn't let him read his new books and learn everything he needed to before school started. They never cared when Harry got rubbish marks at school. They wanted that, so everyone could see that Dudley was the best in every way.

But Dudley could never be the best at magic. He was just a muggle. And Harry wasn't going to let them hold him back any more. He was going to be the best he could be. He just needed a plan.

Usually when Harry needed a plan it was to get more food or how best to hide from Dudley and his friends. This was different however. How to manipulate the Dursley's into something he obviously wanted?

There was nothing he could trade as he wasn't prepared to give Vernon any of his money. It was his and he'd find a good use for it. And he couldn't openly defy his Uncle in anyway as it would just lead to a beating and he'd lose his stuff too. He couldn't just hide his trunk somewhere either. They knew he was going to be buying his school stuff.

He thought back to when Madam Malkin had given him his parcel of clothes. He'd been sure it couldn't all fit in there but she assured him, she'd shrunk his clothes and he just needed to tap it with his wand and it would unshrink. That kind of thing didn't count as underage magic she'd said.

It was getting dark and he was thankful when he passed the library. It was shut but he could stop there and try his idea without anyone seeing. Close to the locked door and surrounded by shadows, Harry opened his trunk and looked through his books.

He picked out the Quidditch book. If it all went wrong and his book exploded or caught fire at least it would only be a book on sport and not his more important school books. He'd never been very good at sport anyway. That was probably because no one at school ever let him play since he was a pretty good runner with all the practise he'd got.

He held it in his hands, giving it a once over with a critical eye. He concentrated on the weight of it, the size of it between his hands. Small. He needed it smaller. Shrunk. He pictured the book shrinking in his hands until it could fit in his pocket, while reaching for the feeling of his magic.

There was a familiar tingling warmth and the book started to get smaller and smaller. When it sat in the palm of his hand, Harry allowed a flicker of a smile to creep across his face. It was always good when he did something new with his power. Soon he'd be learning more than he ever imagined, he was sure.

He quickly picked out a few of his school books and a couple of the extra ones he bought, including So you've found out magic's real and shrunk them down, putting them in his pocket. He picked up his wand box, pulling that out and stuffing it into his sock. Everything else would just have to stay where it was.

He moved slightly quicker after that, unsure how long his books would stay shrunk.

The living room light was on and Harry could see his relatives through the window, watching the TV. He didn't expect them to be doing anything else. They probably hoped he'd never be coming back. With a sigh, Harry walked up the drive and knocked on the door.

He saw Aunt Petunia flutter the nets to see who it was knocking after dark.

"It's the boy." He heard her call out haughtily and Vernon answered in grumbles and his heavy tread as he made for the door.

The door swung open and an arm reached out grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

"Back again, are you?" Uncle Vernon scowled at Harry as though he had just walked dog poo into their nice clean house.

"I don't leave until the first of September, Sir." Harry informed him.

It was then that his Uncle's eyes were drawn down to look at his new trunk. He paled slightly, probably from imagining all the magic things that were inside, before going bright red and snatching it from Harry's hands. Just as Harry had predicted. Harry only held on to give the impression that his Uncle was winning in someway.

"There'll be none of that nonsense in this house! This rubbish is staying locked up." And he shook the case at Harry.

Harry kept his face carefully blank as he watched his Uncle stuff his trunk into his cupboard and lock the door behind him. When his Uncle turned back to him, Harry braced himself.

"Now get up to your room," Uncle Vernon pushed him sharply into the bottom step causing him to lose him footing and hit his head against the far wall. " I don't want to see you till morning. And don't you think for a second that you're going to be SLACKING OFF UNTIL YOU GO OFF TO THAT FREAK SCHOOL!" His Uncle shouted at him as he hurriedly got to his feet and clambered up the stairs.

His room was dark but he soon flicked the old broken lamp on. His plan had succeeded. Now he had work to do.

He spent every moment he could reading the books he had snuck up into his room. He found a loose floorboard and enough space underneath to store all his books and more. He slowly added all his books and his Hogwarts Letter as he rescued them from the cupboard under the stairs.

At the weekend he decided to go back to the alley. He'd concentrated on his muggleborn's introduction and his book on Wizarding etiquette. He wanted to go back and really see what there was to see. Ask more questions to the shopkeepers about what was on offer.

So he took the Knight bus again and passed swiftly through the Leaky Cauldron with his head down in case anyone recognised him. He slipped on one of the robes he'd bought at Madam Malkins over the top of his over-sized muggle clothes. They made him stick out as much as anything.

Harry had planned to have another look round Flourish and Blotts again before he left but at the moment he wanted to explore a bit more. The first thing that caught his eye was a shop with a large pair of spectacles hanging instead of a sign. He'd had the bargain bin glasses his Aunt had picked out for almost three years. Not only was one of the arms slightly bent, Dudley had also broke the middle in two not long after he got them and he'd fixed them cello tape from school but they didn't make things as clear as he thought things ought to be. He knew they made him look even more scruffy and likely to cause trouble. He didn't want to make that kind of impression in the Wizarding World.

He pushed the door open, a bell ringing over head, and hoped they didn't only take appointments. A short witch bustled in from the back room.

She seemed shocked that he'd come on his own. He told her he was old enough, just short. She giggled and showed him to the back room.

"So, can you fix my eyes then?" He asked her casually after she'd had a look into both his eyes and waved her wand at them a bit.

She frowned and huffed at the results. Then she picked up his glasses and did a spell on them as well.

"You know these aren't in your prescription, Dearie?" Her brows knitted together.

He made an almost humourless chuckle and gave her a half smile and a shrug. He'd seen the postman do this to the woman across the street when he'd been gardening. He thought they were having an affair but she forgave him whatever they were fighting about, so he gave it a try on the very adult witch. "I did notice, yes."

She returned with a warm smile and moved on. "Well it seems with the right glasses, your vision may have been corrected a long time ago relatively easy. Now it looks like we caught it just in time."

She went over to one of the cupboards, spelling it open and pulling out a glass container.

"Here. This'll clear everything up as much as it can. We'll do another little check after it's finished doing its work." And she poured out a portion into a cup and offered it to him.

Harry hesitated. He remembered a time when Aunt Petunia had given him something that she wanted him to believe was water. It wasn't. It had burned his mouth and throat but she'd made him drink it all. He'd been so sick, Harry had truly thought he was going to die. When he didn't Vernon had given him a back hand across the face. Now he was older he had a suspicion that the liquid had been Vodka or something similar.

But this woman didn't know who he was. Harry had been careful to keep his scar covered by his fringe and watched her the whole time in case she saw it. And this was her job. Helping Wizards with their eyesight. He didn't think she was trying to poison him so he took it.

Not having the handicap of glasses anymore was worth the slight risk.

It took a minute or two before the other side of the office started to become clearer. It was like someone lifting a veil off his eyes. He blinked and let a small smile come to his face. Victory!

The witch did a few more checks and declared his eyesight perfect. He took great joy in throwing his glasses in the bin. She encouraged him to come back next year to make sure his eyes hadn't regressed at all. He gave her wave as he left.

The next shop that caught his interest was a second-hand store. It was a bit dark and very dusty but it was the kind of shop one might come across anything. As it was he found a thick winter cloak that was a deep moss green with thick grey fur on the inside. He suspected it would keep him warm if he decided to travel across the Baltic. It was even warm to the touch like his blankets were when he forced warmth into them. The magic never lasted through the night and the first time he tried to improve he had caused a small fire and had to spend the weekend trying to smuggle the ruined blanket out into one of the neighbour's bins.

He also found some worn books that looked interesting. After reading the most recent chapter in Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts and getting a fuller picture of the war against Lord Voldemort, he realised that while most of the Wizarding world thought him some kind of Hero, there were also people out there who supported the Dark Lord and would be out for his blood. The fans weren't the only reason he didn't want to be noticed. Plus The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble seemed like weak sauce to him. It was mostly theory with only a few curses and counter-curses and a disarming spell near the end.

So he was especially pleased when he found a book on Duelling technique and tactics. He also found a book that looked to be about surveillance and counter-surveillance spells. It didn't say that in so many words. It had a rather long-winded title but after a look at what information it contained it was practically a guide to being a spy. He couldn't help but think that would be useful. The others covered a wide range of subjects including charms and potions.

He'd been keeping his wand in his sock. It was Vernon's sock so it went half way up his shin and he felt his wand was secure there. Then as he reached the counter to pay for his haul, his eyes passed over something and felt them immediately drawn back. A wand holster. He wasn't sure how he knew that since he hadn't read or seen one.

It was black leather made from some kind of lizard. It had to ornate brass buckles that shone where it attached to the arm.

"Ah! I see that's caught your eye, like most boys your age." The owner of the store said, bringing his attention back to his surroundings.

"How much?" He asked, nodding towards the exquisite piece.

"Twenty Galleons." He answered starting to go through the books Harry had put there.

"Twenty?" Harry frowned, it was alot of money, especially for a second-hand store. "What's so special then?"

It was dragon skin, which meant magically resistant; people couldn't summon or disarm your wand if it was inside the holster. The previous owner had managed to weave a charm into it as well that meant if you pressed your little finger to your thumb together, your wand jumped into your hand. Harry felt his eyes widen slightly as the owner went on. Who ever had previously owned the holster was a serious kind of guy.

"If it works like you say it does, I'll take it aswell." Harry told him when the man finished the glowing recommendation.

He looked doubtful for a second so Harry frowned at him and put on slight heirs he'd seen Aunt Petunia do. She was the best actor apart from Harry at Privet drive.

"I have the money." As though offended that the owner could possibly think anything else.

He looked a bit embarrassed before demonstrating the holster with his own wand. It worked perfectly. Harry left the shop with the holster and his wand strapped to his right arm and his purchases shrunk down to fit in his pocket. When he came out of the shop it was midday and it was getting a little bit more crowded.

So Harry made his way across the street and ducked into Flourish and Blotts to give it another once over before heading back to Privet Drive. After spending almost two weeks going through the books he already bought, he had a better idea of where he lacked knowledge. The first thing he looked for was a more in-depth look at basic magical theory covering most of the branches of magic. He also found two that went more into potions ingredients and equipment and why they interacted the way they did. One of the books was aimed at children at around seven or eight having their first foray into the Art of Potions-making. He only felt a little silly buying it.

He also ended up buying a fictional book. He figured it was cultural and would help him understand how Wizards who'd lived in the world there whole life saw things.

He made it back out of The Leaky Cauldron, after he'd taken off and rolled up his robes and summoned the Knight Bus. It took him back to Little Whinging in less that half an hour. He got back to the Dursley's to find Aunt Petunia high pitched voice.

"Finally back are you?" She pursed her lips and snapped. "There's laundry that needs doing."

She didn't even seem to notice that his glasses were missing.


	4. Unto The Breach, Dear Friends

**Unto the Breach, Dear Friends**

He'd snuck all his books and his new cloak into his trunk the night before. His wand hadn't left his holster or his arm since his latest trip to Diagon Alley. His Uncle had agreed to take him to the station if only because he was already going that way. He was so happy to get away from Privet Drive that he almost smiled in front of his relatives.

He cooked breakfast like normal, dressed in the best of Dudley's hand-me-downs which weren't very good at all but would have to do until he was on the train and could change into his uniform. There was no reason to dirty any of his nice new Wizarding clothes that he'd kept carefully hidden in his trunk.

Half an hour before his Uncle was planning to leave, Harry started getting his stuff ready. It didn't take long as most of his stuff was already packed.

Then he heard his Uncle's heavy feet on the stairs. The man couldn't be stealthy, between his size and the heavy breathing, it was just impossible for him. So Harry tended to know where his Uncle was in the house at all times. It was only Aunt Petunia who ever snuck up on him and he was sure she did it on purpose. He knew his Uncle's routine very well by now and he knew he had no business upstairs apart from him.

A meaty fist pushed the bedroom door open, followed by a very red face.

"Boy! You better know that we are Not going to be putting up with any nonsense when you come Back!" His Uncle spat at him.

Harry kept his face impassive and looked slightly to the floor to appease the man. He kept his eyes on the mans fists, which were clenched at his sides.

"Yes, Sir." Harry answered.

"Don't give me lip, Boy!" He threatened.

His Uncle always wanted him to do the opposite of what ever Harry did. He knew if he'd stayed silent that would have been insolence. When he did answer it was lip.

"Now turn around, hands on the wall." And he began unbuckling his belt.

That caught him by surprise and it really shouldn't have. He froze for a second. Usually he did something 'freaky' before he got it with the belt. Or allegedly stole something. Or 'hurt' Dudley. Or 'lied'. Really he should have known that this was coming. This was the last chance Vernon was going to get for a while.

"DON'T DISOBEY ME FREAK!" His Uncle bellowed and pushed Harry at the wall he had already been turning to.

Harry gritted his teeth and pulled the back of Dudley's top up and over his head, placing his hands on the wall shoulders width apart. He heard the clinking of the buckle and knew he was going to whip him with the sharp end. He stared at the blank wall and retreated to his field.

Just the sound of the wind. Nothing but tall grass and beautiful flowers. Dirt under his finger nails.

The belt lashed down on him. He felt it and the blood that trickled down his back but it was distant. He counted the blows, concentrated on his breathing and pictured his field. He only got to five when his Uncle's arm tired. It wasn't, by far, the worst beating he'd ever had.

"And you better remember that, when your off with those freaks." With that his Uncle wheezed his way out of the room and down the stairs.

Harry let out a slow breath of frustration and pain. Forcing himself to stay on his feet he made his way to the bathroom, careful not to bleed on the carpet. He took his shirt off and put it over the loo. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could see he was pale and a bit shaky. He took some toilet roll and tried to hold it to his back. He had to staunch the blood. When he was on the train, he'd take care of it better. His flannel and towel already having been packed.

Once his blood had gone tacky, Harry pulled the top back over his head, careful not to open his back again. It would have to do.

Soon Harry and Vernon were on their way to London. He was concentrating on sitting up straight and not letting his back touch the seat that he answered truthfully when Vernon asked him what platform the train would be at. He seemed to think that Platform 9 3/4 was hilarious. Harry thought it was rather obvious that it was hidden in some way. They couldn't have muggles learning about Hogwarts.

Unfortunately that made Uncle Vernon want to follow him into the station and see for himself. He seemed to be imagining that someone had played a joke on Harry and given him a fake ticket or something. Which was a bit ridiculous. He didn't point any of that out of course.

Logically, Platform nine and three-quarters should be between nine and ten, so that's where he headed. The only thing between the two stations were the pillars holding up the ceiling.

"See Boy. Nothing. Good luck finding it." Vernon snapped triumphantly.

One wall had the signs attached to it and as he drew closer he felt a faint tingle of magic. He slyly reached out a hand and watched as his fingers disappeared through the wall. He smirked.

"Thank-you Uncle for your assistance." He said over his shoulder knowing the man had dallied in the hopes of seeing some defeat or disappointment on his nephews face.

With that he passed through the wall, disappearing from sight. As the wall melted away from him, his senses were assaulted by the other side.

The first thing that drew his eye and nose was the bright red steam train waiting for all the school children to get on board. It was only five to eleven and he knew it would be leaving soon. He passed a group of children all gathered round something exciting, parents helping their children on to the train and one boy who was bemoaning the loss of his toad. Harry hadn't gotten a familiar. He thought pushing Aunt Petunia like that was just asking for trouble.

He got on to the last carriage, thankful that he'd spent a bit of extra on his trunk and gotten one with a feather light charm. He unlocked his trunk in the last carriage and pulled out his flannel and uniform, before locking it again and hoisting it up into the luggage holder.

There was a bathroom at the very end of the train, right next to his compartment. He put a locking charm on the door. His first time using his wand for magic. It felt as though his magic was being drawn out of his arm. The charm probably wouldn't stand up to any of the older students but it would give him time to get into a cubicle. He took off his shirt and began wetting his flannel in the sink.

He cleaned off every bit he could reach and used magic and the mirror to do the rest. With the blood gone, Harry could make out the raised red skin surrounding the deep welts. It wasn't that bad. At least he'd had worse. He rung out the flannel until the water ran clean, collected his folded pile of clothes from the side and headed for one of the cubicles, after unlocking the door.

Putting everything down on the very clean toilet lid, Harry crouched down leaning against the wall. Then he began healing himself. It was always a long process and feeling his wounds fill up with magic almost burned as much as the wound itself if he rushed it. So slowly he reached within and grasped his power. Slowly he focused on exciting the skin cells into meeting up in the middle and knitting together.

First the last one and so on until his back was back to it's rough mottled self with a few more smaller scars than it had had that morning. He was only a little tired after but he put that down as a bad nights sleep and a depletion of adrenalin than the magic he'd used. Mostly he was hungry. He'd only managed to get a scrap of dinner the night before and nothing for breakfast that morning.

Harry struggled out of his trousers and Dudley's over large trainers and slipped into his uniform and the black leather boots he'd bought for Hogwarts. He'd felt the train start to move while he'd been healing himself so he was surprised to find his compartment still empty.

He pulled down his trunk once more, stuffing in the rags he wouldn't have to where until June and pulling out one of his books. After his trunk was away again, Harry used the locking charm on his compartment door and set an alarm he'd learnt about in his spying book and, much more comfortable, he sat down to read.

An hour later, there was a knock on the door. It was a little old witch pushing a trolley. He used finite incantartem on the door, probably by far the most useful spell he'd learnt so far.

"Any thing from the trolley, dear?" She asked in an almost too upbeat cheerful tone that spoke of how many times she had said it in her life.

"Umm." Nothing was familiar.

"Muggleborn?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Well Pumpkin pasties are the closest to a sandwich you're going to get. Everything else is sweet. Bertie Bott's Every flavoured beans are quite popular but of course, they do mean every flavour. You might not want to risk it, dear. I would recommend the iced mice or..."

But Harry cut her off, something having already caught his eye.

"Blood-flavoured lollipops?" It was a guilty pleasure of his that he liked the taste of his own blood. If the Wizarding world sold blood flavour candy, clearly he wasn't as freakish as he thought.

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes, dear. Not very popular but I always stock a few."

"How much for all of them?" He pulled his money pouch out of his pocket. "And two pumpkin pasties." He added as an after thought.

She wrinkled her nose again but sold him all her stock of blood lollies and trundled back the way she came. Re-securing the door, he settled down once more with his book and a stomach full of pasty. He was idly sucking on a bloodpop a few hours later when he was interrupted by a bushy haired girl, also in her uniform, knocking on the door rather harshly. He opened it cautiously.

"Are you allowed to lock the doors? What if something happened in there and you needed medical assistance!" She burst out before the door was all the way out of her way.

He just snorted.

"Any of the older kids could have undone the spell." He said back coolly before adding, "Unless they were a compete idiot." It had been fairly easy after all.

She let out a huff and seemed to dismiss his answer.

"Have you seen a toad?" She asked rather pointedly.

"No. Have you tried asking one of the older students to do a summoning charm?" Then he thought again. "Or better yet, checked the toilets?"

She frowned. "The toilets?"

He tried hard not to roll his eyes.

"Dark, damp and relatively quiet compared to the rest of the train." He said as if it was obvious, which it kind of was.

The girl didn't say thank-you or by your leave, she just stormed off probably to check the loos. Harry sighed and put the door and charms back in place, sucking on his bloodpop.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew it was dark and a voice echoing through the train informing him that they would be arriving at Hogsmeade momentarily and to change and leave the luggage on the train. Harry wasn't so sure about that but complied anyway. He'd lodge a complaint no one had ever seen before if his stuff was lost. He touched his wand holster through his sleeve before entering the mass of students readying themselves to leave the train.

Getting off the train, he heard Hagrid calling over everyone for the first years to follow him. Harry did, making sure he was at the back of the crowd. He got on the last boat with three others. The others seemed nervous and the four of them didn't say a word to each other as they crossed the lake.

He felt a tingle of magic outside of his body grow more powerful until he felt as though he had passed through a wall of magic. He could only guess that they'd just passed the old and powerful wards he'd read about in Hogwarts, a History. The others didn't seem to notice. Eventually the castle came within sight.

It was glorious. It's bold silhouette stood tall against the darkening sky, wisps of magic flowing around it. There were three or four large towers but other smaller ones seemed to peak out all over the place. It was huge. Harry remembered some of the other things he'd read in Hogwarts, a History. Like supposedly it had one hundred, and forty two staircases and innumerable 'secret pathways'.

He couldn't help but look forward to the next year.

He'd read about the four houses, their founders and specialities. Ravenclaws were smart, studious and quick-witted. Hufflepuffs hardworking, loyal and fair. Gryffindors were brave, chivalrous and adventurous. Slytherins were sly, cunning and ambitious. He wasn't sure where he was going to fit in.

He'd stuck to the back of the group, unwilling to have anyone walking behind him. The ghosts peeked his interest but they were soon gone. Eventually they were herded into the Great Hall. The ceiling was more impressive than he'd imagined but he didn't waste time staring at it. He turned his head to the other pupils already sitting at the tables. They were staring back and Harry kept his carefully impassive expression. He wasn't going to be cowed just because there were a lot of them and they were older.

Everyone followed Professor McGonagall up the hall until everyone was crowded at the front. She put a stool in the middle of the dais and set an old hat on top of it. Then the hat began to sing. Harry listened carefully trying to tell if it was informative or just a bit of traditional entertainment. Even at the end he still wasn't sure.

Professor McGonagall began reading out a list of names in alphabetical order and they went up to put the hat on and were sorted into their house. Harry began taking note of names and houses, never knowing when that information might be useful.

Eventually it was his turn.

"Potter, Harry." She called.

He started pushing through and the students broke out into whispers.

"Harry Potter? THE Harry Potter!"

"...I heard he was coming to Hogwarts this year."

"Do you think he remembers..."

Harry held his head up high as though he didn't hear the rumble of voices talking about him. He concentrated on the Hat in front of him. He picked it up and placed it on his head as he sat down. The hat fell over his eyes.

"Hmmm, curious. Very curious..." A voice said in his head.

He made a conscious effort not to jump like some of the others did.

"Curious?" Instead he asked cautiously.

"A very organised mind you have Mister Potter? Not often does such a mind walk through those doors. Not in one so young as you." The Hat continued.

"Hmmm." He hummed in interest but without knowing what to say to that.

"Yes, yes. Hardworking, I see. Not a bad mind either." The Hat paused. "Oh. And a thirst to prove yourself. Tell me Mister Potter, what do you want?"

What did he want? He wanted to never go back to Privet Drive. He didn't want anyone telling him what to do or making him do stuff anymore. He wanted to be powerful enough that he could take care of himself and make everyone else go away! He gripped the stool with the force of that thought. It was true he wanted to be left alone in his field. He'd find it one day and build his own house there.

"Oh what ambition you have. You could be great, you know. Slytherin could help you on your way to Greatness." The Sorting Hat informed him.

"Slytherin it is then?" Harry thought back.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat called aloud

Harry took off the hat and laid it on the stool for the next moment. His lack of applause didn't go unnoticed but he pretended it did. He was almost at his seat when the boy from Madam Malkins stood up from the table and began to clap. The rest of the table followed.

"Draco Malfoy." He held out his hand to shake.

Harry did take his hand, the standard up, down, up for new acquaintances according to his book.

"Harry Potter." He introduced himself and Malfoy seemed pleased that he reacted as he should have.

They both sat and Harry turned his attention back to the sorting. It was over soon after and Harry was joined by Blaise Zabini who sat on his other side. The other boy, Theodore Nott nodded to him so Harry returned it with equal depth.

The Headmaster stood up and spoke to them all. "Blubber, oddment and tweak."

Harry thought it might be worth watching the Headmaster. Either he was slightly senile or he was pretending to be. Both could prove to be a danger. The food appeared before him. He was just glad there weren't a hundred and one forks like on one of the pages in his etiquette book. He still hadn't plotted all of them out yet.

He served himself a large helping, considering what he was used to and especially grabbed some vegetables. He so rarely got fruit or vegetables at the Dursley's.

It turned out that Malfoy had a lot to say. Most of his year mates seemed to hang off his every word. He let his eyes wander over the teachers. He couldn't really tell much from there but it was obvious when Hagrid avoided his eye. Harry ignored him too and carried on down the line.

One of the teachers was staring at him. For a moment he was captured by those dark eye surrounded by a scowling face. A burst of pain shot through his scar as Quirrell moved next to the teacher. He turned away but didn't let himself show the pain except for a tensing of the hand holding his fork.

He leaned in slightly towards Zabini, as Malfoy was still wittering on, but not enough to be in the boy's space. They hadn't really been introduced yet.

"Whose that next to Quirrell?" He asked looking down at his food and taking a bite.

"I think that's Professor Snape. Our Head of House and Potions Master." The boy replied but in a tone that was slightly begrudging.

Harry nodded but said nothing more. He didn't think Snape liked him much but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions yet.

Then the ghosts arrived. Most scattered around the Hall, with the House Ghosts floating above or through the tables. Harry watched as Nearly-Headless Nick rose through a plate of chicken legs and preceded to show his house why he was called 'Nearly-Headless'. Harry frowned at the repugnant display.

Slytherin's ghost however, floated very calmly a suitable distance above them so as not to interfere with their dinner. When he came to the first years, he looked them over subtly.

"Mr Malfoy." He ghost nodded, his whispered voice somehow cutting through the chatter in the Great Hall.

Malfoy himself paled slightly but managed a polite greeting back. The ghost made to hover between Harry and Malfoy. Harry shuffled up to make room for him but Malfoy tried to move as far away as humanly possible.

"And Mr Potter," The Bloody Baron turned to him. "There hasn't been a Potter in Slytherin in almost eight hundred years."

Harry wasn't exactly sure on the etiquette when talking to a ghost, his book hadn't covered it. It was mostly Wizard to Wizard/Witch. There was one chapter as how to deal with Goblins but that was it on the magical creatures.

"Baron." He nodded at the ghost since a hand shake was definitely out of the question.

He could still see Malfoy on the other side of the Baron, it was like looking through a foggy window. The Baron himself was dressed in silvery robes covered in slightly more opaque silvery blood. He seemed to have died from a knife to the chest. Thinking it was probably rude to stare at his manner of death, Harry found himself looking into the slightly unnerving cold eyes set in a gaunt but intelligent face.

When the ghost didn't say anything, Harry groped around for something to say.

"Interesting form of immortality. Not one most would choose if they understood, I suppose?" He'd thought alot about the consequences of being a ghost since he learned about the possibility.

The Baron's lips quirked slightly. "I think you'll do well here, Mr Potter." Was all he said before he floated away to talk with some of the upper years.

Eventually desert was finished, the headmaster had made his announcements and they were all going to bed.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The Dursley's are more brutal so Harry's had to be a bit cleverer to survive. So he's a little bit more self-assured (he knows he can take care of himself, he's done it his whole life.)if not self confident. Realising he has magic and using it have given him more of an awareness for the feel of it.

BTW he missed Ron and the Twins when he was in the bathroom. They took Ronniekins further down the train and dropped him off with other first years, Seamus and Dean, before heading off to find the spider and Lee.

With the absence to Ron and his distrust of Hagrid lead to an almost unbiased Harry when he meets the sorting hat.

I never understood why Harry didn't take a dislike to Hermione at first like Ron. She is kind of snooty like Petunia.

Malfoy and his crownies did look for Harry on the train but he was asleep when they reached his end of the train. People are talking about him on the train but no one knows where he is without the twins to tell them.


	5. Home Away From Home

He hadn't been able to pick the boy out amongst all the first years gawking at the enchanted ceiling, as he thought he would. He could easily see his Godson, Draco with Crabbe and Goyle's son's standing on either side of him like two hideous bookends. The bright ginger hair and face full of freckles spoke of yet another Weasley. How many more of them could there possible be?

But he didn't see a roguish swathe of messy black hair. Or the familiar glint of round golden frames that the boy was sure to have. There didn't seem to be a mini James Potter among the crowd. Where was he?

Minerva began to call out names and one by one the children were sorted. Unsurprisingly, his godson went to Slytherin along with his bodyguards. He kept an eye on his Slytherins and noted who joined them.

Eventually, as the crowd waiting to be sorted thinned out, Minerva got to the P's. The teachers around him seemed to hold their breath as Perks went off to sit with the Hufflepuffs. They all knew who was next.

Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, gave one last look at the remaining children. Which one was he?

"Potter, Harry." Minerva called and the Great Hall broke out into a sea of whispers.

There was movement at the back of the group and they began to part to let the boy through. And what he saw shocked him.

He hardly looked like James Potter at all. It seemed he had inherited his fathers hair but it was chin length and the added weight seemed to pull it down and keep it somewhat orderly. Even though it did stick out in some places. His face wasn't as rounded as Potter Sr's had been. He was thin and slightly angular with high cheek bones that struck more from the Black line than the Potter's. And he was sure Potter had never been so small.

The biggest shock, however, was his eyes. Shape, size, colour. They were exactly Lilly's eyes. Most especially the colour. Free of glasses it was clear he looked like his mother.

But he couldn't let that effect him. He boy was sure to behave as his father did. In no time he would be strutting down the Halls with sycophants hanging off his every word. He was the Gryffindor Golden boy. The Boy-Who-Lived.

He placed the Hat on his head. It didn't immediately call out Gryffindor as it had for his father all those years ago. Silence hung in the Great Hall as everyone waited with bated breath to see which House the Boy-Who-Lived would be sorted into. Snape watched the boy's fingers tighten on the edge of the stool.

As time ticked by a few people began to whisper again. Then the unthinkable happened.

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat announced.

For a moment, he didn't understand. Was he having a stroke? Had someone confunded him without him noticing?

The boy took off the Sorting Hat and laid it on the stool. Unlike everyone else, Potter didn't get an applause; the Great Hall was completely silent. It didn't seem to bother the boy as he headed for the Slytherin table, head held high.

Draco Malfoy, of all people, stood and began clapping. His house followed immediately and a few polite Hufflepuffs joined them. Everyone else just watched him take a seat on the far side of the table next to Draco and across from the Nott boy.

He shook Draco's hand when it was offered and the two boys sat waiting for the ceremony to continue.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was a Slytherin.

Minerva carried on after only a slight hesitation reading out the last few names. Snape looked over to see Dumbledore watching the boy intently. This is not what the Headmaster wanted, that much was clear.

Soon everyone was sorted and Dumbledore had spoke his yearly nonsense, the food appeared. The children began talking amongst themselves, as did the teachers and mostly about Potter. Snape didn't, he was watching the boy. Potter had put a sensible helping of food on his plate including some vegetables, unheard of in a child his age. Draco was holding court, regaling his year mates with some story, probably about his father or himself. Crabbe, Goyle and some of the girls listened with rapt attention.

Potter didn't. He, Nott and Zabini were watching. Draco, the girls, each other, students at the other tables. At one point he saw the Nott boy give Potter a nod and Potter returned it. Had someone coached him on the rules of Pureblood society? He was doing too well for it to be an accident.

The boy looked up at the Head Table, his eyes lingering on Dumbledore for a moment. His face didn't betray what he was thinking. Then those familiar emerald eyes met his. He knew he was scowling at the boy, but he scowled at everyone. He didn't seemed to take offence. The boy looked away first, saying something to Zabini next to him.

The Boy-Who-Lived, James Potter's son, was a Slytherin.

Dinner finished and dessert began. The children, as usual, gorged themselves on all manner of sweets. Potter, however, took an apple from the untouched bowl of fruit. And that was all.

Dumbledore made his yearly announcements about the forbidden forest and the banned objects. He mentioned that if anyone were to venture into the third floor corridor on the left hand side was sure to meet certain death. Severus refrained from rolling his eyes and made a private bet with himself that one of the Gryffindors would venture there before the term was up. And he was being exceedingly generous.

The prefects started leading the new snakes through the main corridors to the common room. It wasn't the most direct route by far but it would keep them from getting lost in secret passageways until they knew the castle better. The rest took one of the more direct paths to the dungeons.

Snape however took the most direct corridor that was only open to teachers. He liked to beat the new snakes to the common room and make them wonder at his skill. He didn't even have to move at more than a fast walk. He entered the common room and waited in front of the fireplace.

He was going to make sure the boy knew where he stood. He wasn't going to get any special treatment from him or anyone else in the House of Snakes. He wouldn't be letting any lazy, arrogant behaviour pass. The boy would toe the line.

How was the boy a Slytherin?

Weirdly Harry felt a sense of familiarity as he was led to the common rooms. It was like he'd walked the corridors before in a dream. Into the dungeon they went, far enough to give them some distance from the rest of the school but not so far to risk them getting lost.

All the dark corridors were lit by torches sitting in sconces along the stone walls. Occasionally there was a tapestry or portrait but they were few and far between in the dungeons, unlike the rest of the school. He didn't like the way the people in them moved about, often from painting to painting, following them along their path. Who had their loyalty and tongue? Professor Snape? The Headmaster? One of the older Slytherins if they got the opportunity?

Harry trailed along at the back of the group of First years. Malfoy's voice could still be heard chatting to the Prefects and anyone who cared to listen. How pleased his father would be when he sent him a letter in the morning. Of course there was never any doubt that he would be a Slytherin. His family had been in the House of Snakes for generations. Even on his mothers side. Did everyone know his mother was a Black?

Harry stored this information away till he could figure out the significance. Was there a way to find out the history on all the important families in the Wizarding world? Including his own. He really needed to find the Library tomorrow.

Eventually they passed a portrait of a stern man with a snake wrapped around his neck and paused in front of a blank space of wall. The prefects turned to them and motioned at the wall.

"This is the entrance to the common room. You are not to tell any of the other Houses where it is or what the password is on pain of serious pain." The Prefect, who said that with a particular viciousness that made Harry believe her, was a slender blonde girl, probably in her last year.

The other prefect, a boy Harry thought to be fifthteen, faced the wall and clearly said the password, opening the door to the common room.

"Runespoor." He turned back to them, not letting the front of the group from pushing through. "We change the password every week so you better remember to check the Notice Board before you leave on Mondays."

Then he turned and stepped through the doorway. The female prefect gestured for them to follow him inside. Nott and Zabini were in front of him and he shortened the distance he had left between them when he realized that the girl was going to wait for them all to enter.

As soon as he couldn't see her in the corner of his eye, he pricked his ears to listen to her movements. At the same time he took in the room before him.

The windows offered no light but he could still see that they were under the lake as a school of fish passed the window and the torches lighting the edges of the room caught their scales. The room itself was probably the fanciest place he had ever been. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, holding a hundred candles. Black leather sofas were spaced out around fireplaces filled with raging fires. Rich tapestries, which depicted stories or characters that everyone else in the room could probably recognise, hung between ornate dark wooden bookshelves filled with books that reached up to the high ceiling. There were thick wooden tables along with the chairs where people could study and do homework. Or just sit around as the older students were doing at that moment. The green and silver accents were everywhere as well as a variety of carved or sculpted snakes.

It seemed there was only one way in or out and that was the entrance behind him that had closed. The prefect moved around him on his left and joined the other prefect in front of the main fireplace. There was a staircase that Harry assumed lead up to the dormitories.

The first years clustered close to the fireplace, hoping to chase away the chill that haunted the dungeons. Harry felt it but didn't react. He'd been colder and he didn't want to be too close to the rest of them.

Malfoy stood on the other side of the group, finally silent, with Parkinson practically hanging off his arm and Crabbe and Goyle on either side of them. A bunch of girls stood next to them; Greengrass, Bulstrode, Runcorn and Davis. Davis looked like she'd rather be standing next to Parkinson but didn't have the courage to move Goyle out of the way. Greengrass didn't look like she wanted to talk to anyone but Zabini and Runcorn and Bulstrode looked bored and sullen. Nott was eyeing him ever so subtly but Harry ignored it for now.

Then Professor Snape appeared out of the shadows in the room. Harry cursed himself for not noticing him before but managed to keep his face neutral. He was imposing and Harry instantly thought it would be a good idea not to be on this man's bad side.

Then he sent Harry a scathing look that Harry recognised as one Aunt Petunia used a lot. The look was gone when he looked to the other first years and Harry knew his Head of House hated him. Why, he would have to figure out.

"Slytherin is a House of Cunning and Ambition. Laziness and Stupidity will therefore not be tolerated." The man began in a low soft spoken voice that did nothing to comfort any of them. "The other Houses scorn us, so we must therefore stick together. There will be no arguments with your housemates outside of this room. Out there we are a united front."

He eyed each of them individually, as if he could see in their faces if they were going to be breaking these rules. His lips pinched and his eyebrows coming together slightly when it came to Harry.

Harry just stared back.

"You will all be in bed at nine o'clock of an evening, awake at seven and in the Great Hall for eight. The prefects will escort you to and from your classes for this week and not after. Study groups will be posted on the Notice Board tomorrow. They are mandatory, as are meal times. The Prefects will tell you the rest of the rules and then you will go to sleep. It has been a long day." He paused, assessing each one of them again. "Welcome to Slytherin."

He made eye contact with Harry then and motioned for him to follow him. Harry didn't hesitate but he did brace himself. The Professor led him over to the wall and opened a door that Harry hadn't seen. It opened into a narrow corridor that the Professor swept down.

At the other end it opened into what Harry thought was the Professor's office. He turned sharply as the door closed behind Harry.

"Mr Potter." The venom in his voice was undeniable as he spat through clenched teeth even if he didn't raise his voice. "You are not going to be receiving any special treatment from me. Despite your celebrity status you will be treated like every other member of this House, do you understand?"

Harry took a moment to partially frown as though he didn't understand why he was pointing that out. Harry of course did. This man obviously thought Harry was going to go around crowing about how he was the Boy-Who-Lived and how he had defeated Voldemort. He wasn't, of course. Attention was something he despised.

"Perfectly, sir." He answered graciously and waited for his reaction.

His jaw clenched tighter and his scowl deepened.

"Dismissed Potter." Was all he said and he turned away to his desk.

Harry slipped down the corridor again and joined his year mates in listening to the speech the prefects were giving about all the rules and what to do if they had trouble of any kind. They all looked to him as he returned, some more slyly than others. They all wanted to know why Professor Snape had pulled him away.

Eventually they were sent up to the dorms. The girls to the left and the boys to the right, Malfoy leading the way.

The dorm was a long rectangle room with six four poster beds, three to either side. Emerald curtains hung round the bed matching the thick silky covers on the beds. Another door stood at the other end of the room, which Harry assumed were the bathrooms.

The rest went straight to their beds, recognising their trunks sitting at the foot of the beds. Harry's bed was the far one, on the side with the windows. Nott was next to him and Zabini was next to Nott closest to the exit. Malfoy and his cronies were on the other side with Malfoy in the middle. Harry opened the door on the far side and inspected the bathroom.

It had three cubicles, containing showers and a wall with a long mirror that sat over three sinks. There were three more cubicles around the corner that had toilets in them The tiles were a mint green with emerald highlights, with everything else in white. It looked very clean but Harry wasn't sure how long it would stay that way.

The others were unpacking their trunks. Harry leant down to whisper the password to unlock his trunk and began following their lead. He was hanging his school uniform to one side and his new every day robes to the other when Malfoy approached him.

"So," He drawled and Harry turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter at Madam Malkins? And why were you dressed like a muggle?"

The disgust in the boys voice was undeniable. Harry was kind of surprised that he even remembered him. He'd already come up with a story at dinner in case the boy did remember.

Harry smirked. "I was in disguise. I wanted to get my school things, not spend all day shaking hands with old ladies."

The boy scrunched up his nose as if he didn't understand why anyone would hide from all the attention. Harry just snorted.

"Excuse me." Harry said pointedly so he could carry on unpacking his stuff.

Malfoy barely moved so Harry pushed past. He knew in an instant he was being baited. Dudley had done it too many times for Harry not to recognise what was happening. Crabbe and Goyle had moved round so they were standing near his trunk.

He reached for the lid and slammed it shut. As he did so Malfoy made his move. Harry felt the magic build a split second before it was fired.

"Locomotor Wibbly!" Malfoy bellowed behind him.

It was more powerful than Harry had assumed a completely untrained wizard might be capable of. It wasn't a spell he'd come across yet in his reading, although it didn't take a genius to figure out what it might do. Which meant Purebloods probably taught their children before sending them to Hogwarts.

But Harry had barely any time to think as the magic shot out at his legs. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Harry had excellent reactions from dodging blows his whole life. He jumped over the spell and saw Crabbe fall, his legs akimbo and moving of their own accord, as he turned to Malfoy, wand in hand.

"Expelliamus." He murmured, catching Malfoy's wand in his free hand.

He turned again, taking a step back to put Malfoy and Goyle in his eye sight. He eyed the other two boys, but they didn't seem interested in jumping in too. Nott and Zabini just watched him.

"That was a rather rash move on your part, Malfoy." He threw the boys wand away from him and towards the other boy's bed. "So was that a test of my magic or a declaration of war?"

Malfoy fumed but said nothing, just watched to see what move he would make. Harry just nodded his head towards Malfoy's bed. The boy stalked across the room and retrieved his wand. Goyle went to help Crabbe up with a muttered finite incantartem that didn't work the first time.

Harry waited until wands were away before stowing his own. He vowed to never take off his wand holster. It seemed that here, like at the Dursley's, he would have to keep his guard up.

He finished unpacking, then went about putting locking and alarm charms on his wardrobe and the draws on his desk. The same ones he had used on the train. His trunk had it's own, better protections. He made a note to focus on protection spells in his extra studies. He couldn't afford to be behind his classmates.

He changed in the bathroom, away from prying eyes, checking his back over once more in the mirror before going to bed. The others were all beginning to get into bed. He felt eyes on him again and looked up to see Nott watching him again. The boy nodded at him before laying back.

Harry drew the curtains around himself and put the strongest sticking charm on the curtains to keep them closed. Then he looped the alarm spell around the bed. Tomorrow he'd find the library and a better way to guard his bed.


	6. Dreams and Nightmares

When he'd first seen the beds, Harry hadn't believed his luck. Large and soft. Fancy sheets that were smooth against his skin. The curtains would even stop him feeling vulnerable sleeping in the open like in Dudley's second bedroom. But after half an hour of trying to get to sleep he knew he'd been mistaken.

He was full of food, warm wrapped in the blankets and tired from his journey but he couldn't get to sleep. The pillows were so large they twisted his neck to the side and the mattress so soft he felt like it might begin to swallow him at any moment. He was uncomfortable.

After much tossing and turning, Harry sighed. Rolling on his front his put his hands flat on the mattress. He wanted his mattress harder. Not like stone or metal though. More like his mattress from the Dursley's but not as small. So he reached for his magic again and concentrated on the feeling of his bed at the Dursley's and changing the feel of this new one.

He felt the tingling flood his stomach and move up his arms and into the bed below him. The mattress began to change and Harry let out a breath he'd been holding. This wasn't exactly like the other stuff he'd done without a wand. He'd never changed anything or transfiguration as the books called it. He didn't think shrinking things counted.

When he was satisfied he did the same to the pillows. Harry felt even more tired than he did before, transfirgiration was supposed to be very hard, and settled in for the night.

The nightmare came as it had done so many times before. But there was more this time.

There were golden bubbles and he laughed as he tried to get them. Someone picked him up and he felt himself pressed into someone else's arms. His mum. Red hair fanned over his face and wrapped around the fingers on one hand. He was safe.

But then there was a change. A crash sounded. His mum held him tighter. A man was shouting.

"Go Lily. It's him. Take Harry and go!" It was his dad.

A door slammed shut and Harry felt his mother put him down. She was a blur of hair as she knelt beside the crib. Fear was creeping up in him but he couldn't understand.

With a flash of light the door behind her flew open and she span around.

"Not Harry. Kill me, not Harry." He heard her beg.

"Stand aside foolish girl." Came a high pitched hiss.

Green light filled his vision and his mother fell to the side as the man began to laugh.

"Avada Kadavra!" And the green light flew at him once more. Pain lanced through his head and Harry woke with a jolt.

The night his parents died. He had remembered more of it. He gasped for air. Pulling his wand out he attempted the tempus spell. On his second try he had it. It was half past five. He wasn't getting anymore sleep.

He lifted the charms around his bed and collected his uniform before going into the bathroom for a shower before his dormmates woke up.

He spent some time skimming through the first chapters of his books in preparation for his classes before moving to the things he hadn't read yet. Now he could use his wand he couldn't wait to try out half of the spells he had read about. Not that he was going to neglect his wandless abilities but he wanted to wait to see where the other children were power-wise before he showed the full extent of what he was capable of.

An hour and a half later one of the prefects wandered into the common room. He looked Harry over before making his way over to the sofa in front of the fire.

"What are you doing down here so early?" He looked at Harry's books suspiciously.

"I'm an early riser." Harry answered casually. "I was wondering when curfew lifted."

"Why? Breakfast is served at eight. You won't be able to eat earlier, it's same rules for everyone." An edge working it's way into his voice.

"No. Usually I go for a run at six." It was a lie but a practise he wanted to pick up, it was hard keeping fit at the Dursley's but it seemed he'd be getting proper portions at Hogwarts and he wanted to build some muscle.

The prefect narrowed his eyes. "A run?"

"Mmm Hmm." He'd be in shape for duels or running away or a number of other things he might have to do.

The seventh year prefect narrowed his eyes at him but shrugged to himself after a moment.

"Curfew lifts at half past six." He turned and headed back up the stairs.

Harry sighed. He cast the tempus charm again and found that it was ten past seven. He went back to reading. It wasn't long before people started the common room started to fill up. Harry switched chairs so he didn't have his back to the room. He began observing his fellow Slytherins, through his fringe, occasionally turning the page to make it look like he was reading.

Most seemed to interact mostly within their own year. One of the glaring exceptions was a group of boys lounging by the stairs. They were all listening to one of the seventh years as he made hand gestures. Harry guessed that that was the quidditch team and the captain.

It was then that someone crossed his field of vision and sat in the chair adjacent to his own. It was the Nott boy. He looked Harry up and down, focused momentarily on the book in his hands before nodding at him.

"Morning." Harry murmured returning the nod.

Nott was a bit rat-like in the face, there was a small resemblance to Piers Polkiss but he didn't have that haughty superior look about him. His eyes weren't as squinty either, they were wide and a deep brown colour. When the boy didn't look away, Harry rose an eyebrow in question.

"I'm thinking of trying to find the Library later." His accent was upper class but he didn't drawl like Malfoy.

It seemed like an invitation, without truly being one. It would probably be better to move around in numbers until Harry had a better feel for his surroundings. So far Nott didn't seem repugnant.

"Me too." He wasn't going to be the one to ask though.

Nott seemed to understand what he was doing because there was a spark humour in his eyes before it was gone. His eyes flickered past Harry and he shifted slightly to see what had drawn the other boy's attention. It was the rest of their year. Malfoy led the way, chattering away with Parkinson, followed by Crabbe and Goyle and Davis, who was trying to break into the conversation. There was a distance between Malfoy and the second group that Harry thought very deliberate. Zabini and Greengrass walked side by side not saying anything, with Bulstrode trailing behind looking sullen.

Malfoy's eyes drifted over the two of them before he tilted his face up and away from them. Harry saw the snub for what it was and snorted rolling his eyes. But it wasn't just him.

"So did you do something other than sit with me this morning?" His eyes cut across to Nott as the others crowded together not too far away.

The boy gave a somewhat self-deprecating snort. "Well, Draco and I, our families run in some of the same circles. We've met on occasion at parties and gatherings. We've never got along particularly well. I was always a bit too bookish for his tastes."

The boy smirked at Harry then and Harry returned it imagining what might have happened between the two of them. Nott seemed much more subtle than Malfoy.

"So you know a lot of people here," He gave the room another once over cataloguing faces. "And those in our year?"

Having someone to set the scene would be an asset at the moment. He needed to know who these people were and he could only get so much from a distant surveillance. He needed context. Nott's eyes narrowed for a moment before he rose his eyebrows.

"Sure." He answered with a shrug.

Harry only nodded.

"Maybe we can find the Library at Lunch." He said instead.

Nott smirked at him again and nodded. Then the prefects strode in, calling for the first years to follow him.

Nott sat beside him at Breakfast. He didn't say much, just loaded his plate and began to eat. Harry picked himself out two slices of toast, buttered them and slipped three rations of bacon between them. He had to work himself up before he could stomach half of the greasy foods on the platters without throwing it all back up.

Once they were on their way to their first class, he and Nott hung slightly behind and Nott began with the Wizarding world's who's who.

Draco Malfoy's father was on the Board of Governor's for the school, donated quite a lot of money to charity and had the Minister in his back pocket. Malfoy's mother hosted a big party every Yule that everyone who was anyone hoped for an invitation. Crabbe and Goyle's families owed the Malfoy's fealty and had since a Malfoy heir saved the lives of the Crabbe and Goyle's heirs a few hundred years ago. The Parkinson's were of a slightly lower class but had recently broken in with society and Nott thought Pansy was angling for a marriage contract between her and Draco but was unsure if she had her families support.

Davis was a half-blood, a pureblood father and a muggleborn mother like him. Nott said that Mrs Davis was a classy woman and had worked hard to be accepted but she'd done it elegantly where as Tracy as a little too desperate to fit in. The Greengrass's were a well respected Pureblood family, traditionally neutral. They only had two daughter's, Daphne and a younger sister. That meant Daphne was an Heiress. The Zabini's were an Italian family but Blaise's father had been an English man of the lower upper classes. His father had been killed in mysterious circumstances as had Madam Zabini's other husbands. Most called her the Black Widow but not within her hearing. The Bulstrode's traditionally followed the Malfoy's, like the Crabbe's, Goyle's and the Burke's.

Harry noticed that he didn't mention who's families may have been Death Eaters but since Harry was pretty sure his father had been one, he didn't say anything. He judged the individuals and Nott didn't seem to bad.

They did leave lunch early with directions on how to get to the library and how to get to their following class from there. It was an extensive library, he was not able to see either end from the door. The stack closest to the door had the label transfiguration on the side.

"How do you reckon they organise the place?" He asked absently as he took in the sight of so many new books to read. "The muggles have the Dewey decimal system but I doubt that's going to apply here."

Nott gave him a sideways look.

"Know a lot about Muggle's, do you?" He asked casually.

Harry wondered for a minute if he had made a mistake. But he decided he couldn't hide the fact that he had been raised in the muggle world very long. There was too much he didn't know that simple isolation in some fancy manor house somewhere wouldn't cover. It was not a conversation for now at least.

"Mmm Hmm," He nodded instead and carried on his looking around the almost empty library. "One to ninety-nine would be the encyclopaedias and reference texts, dictionaries and the like then a hundred to a hundred and ninety-nine is philosophy and so on."

Nott's face scrunched up his face and gave Harry a half shrug.

"What are you interested in looking for?" Nott asked motioning to the library around them.

Harry had to think about it a moment. There were so many things he wanted to know.

"Wards." He settled on, security had to be a priority.

"You'll need to know Arithmancy before you could attempt a ward. It's supposed to be quite advanced." Nott informed him, leading them to the right to begin their search.

"Arithmancy? Mathematics? Like numbers and stuff?" That was probably something he would be good at, he always understood the math at primary school easily.

Nott nodded and pointed to a shelf on their left labels arithmancy.

"You'll want a basic primer to explain the subject. Not numeracy though, that's predicting you future. Not what you're looking for. We have to wait until third year before we can take it as a lesson." They both went over to the shelf and started browsing the titles.

"An interest of yours?" Harry asked watching Nott out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes. It's important in spell crafting. That's what I want to do when I come of age." He replied.

"That does sound interesting." He agreed.

Creating ones own spells did sound interesting and useful. He could already imagine spells no one else knew the counter to and didn't know how to defend against. Possibilities were already spinning around in his head.

He looked directly at Nott then. He seemed smart, smarter than Malfoy at any rate. He hadn't spoke up in their first classes of the day but neither did Harry. And at the moment he was scouting for Harry's alliance.

"Arithmancy is supposed to be quite tricky, yes?" Nott nodded. "Maybe we should work together on this then. Learn what we both need to together and then I'll concentrate on wards and you'll concentrate on spell crafting. Then we can teach the other what we've learnt."

It would be worth it even if the alliance didn't last.

Nott nodded at him with a friendly smirk and shook his hand. They picked out three books to get out between them and, after Harry cast the Tempus charm, they were siging the books out and hurrying to their third class of the day.


	7. The Awakening

**Okay, so I think this chapter may cause some controversy. I wasn't sure I should put this in the blurb or not. Please comment with your opinion if you would have rather knew this was where the story was going before you picked this to read. I am in favour of constructive criticism. If you've got questions about character motive or plot or something I want to know because that means I haven't been clear enough.**

 **Also thanks to the guest who pointed out that Incarcerous was a conjuration and therefore probably too advanced for Malfoy on the first day. I did change it (because I agree) to a jelly leg hex but Malfoy does conjure that snake in second year.**

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The days began to fly by after that. Nott stuck to his side, attending classes, eating their meals, studying and doing homework in the common room or library and exploring the castle and it's surroundings. Harry got gawked at alot but at least the Slytherins were more subtle about it. It was the other houses that doubled back on themselves on their way to class to get another look at him. Whispers followed him everywhere he went. Nott made sarcastic commentary while also telling Harry who particular people were in the upper years, which he appreciated.

People weren't sure how to take his sorting into Slytherin. They'd all thought he'd go to Gryffindor because he 'defeated' the Dark Lord or because his parents were Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws gave him speculative looks which was only slightly better than most of the Hufflepuffs shying away from him. Some of the Gryffindors looked at him mournfully while others had a more hostile edge to them. Slytherin seemed to have decided to wait and see, as a whole, but he had picked up on a few looks that were sure to develop into actions before too long.

Nott was a font of information on the Wizarding world, things you couldn't pick up from books. It seemed like the Purebloods did teach their children before sending them to Hogwarts. It was mostly history, herbology and potions basics and the like. Others went a bit further, and against the teachings of the Ministry, to teach their children some wand magic as well. Nott showed him a few of the jinxes his father had shown him in exchange for the alarm charm Harry knew to protect his own wardrobe and bed and a hex or two from one of the books Harry had picked up in the second hand shop that Nott had never read before.

He also didn't mind a comfortable silence of which there were many. Harry wasn't really much of a talker himself and neither was Nott. When they did talk it mostly spells they had read about or something they had done in a lesson. Nott did complain quite a bit about Binns, the ghost history teacher. Nott thought he as responsible for killing all interest in the subject in the last hundred years. Harry could believe it. He doubted many people bothered taking the class to Newt Level. And a society who didn't know their own history was doomed to repeat it.

The two of them spent most of their free time concentrating on teaching themselves Arithmancy, where their housemates mostly played chess or exploding snap. He'd been right about picking it up fast, he knew quite alot of the material already. It was about changing the context of the numbers in his head. Nott had a harder time of it as it was all completely new to him but Harry helped him out. He thought he might be ready to try his first ward by Christmas.

The two of them had finished their last class on Wednesday and had decided instead of going back to the common room, they would go for a walk around the lake. Harry had decided to put off his morning run until he was a bit more familiar with Hogwarts and it's grounds. He didn't want to get lost, no matter how unlikely he felt that was. The strange remembrance of the place still hung with him; as if he had always known Hogwart's many passages and corridors. He'd even found a secret passage on the way to History behind a tapestry of a red-haired woman holding a harp. He'd just known it was there and that it would get him where he was going quicker. Nott had given him a strange look but had shrugged and followed him anyway.

They discussed their first Charms class as they walked a short distance fro the waters edge. Professor Flitwick was a tiny man, half goblin according to Nott, and came across as a very cheerful but studious fellow. When he'd called Harry's name on the register he had been so shocked, he had fallen off his stack of books. The Slytherin's had sniggered but Harry had just rolled his eyes. The lesson had gotten better after that and after covering the theory and practising the wand movement half a dozen times, they had been given permission to try the colour change charm on a piece of parchment given to each of them. Harry had gotten it on his second try.

"It's good isn't it? Using magic." Nott said with a deep appreciative inhale as they sat down under a beech tree.

"Yeah." Harry agreed easily looking out across the lake towards the mountains in the distance.

"Reminds me of my Awakening ceremony." Nott closed his eyes.

Harry thought that was trusting of him. Or maybe he had noticed that Harry's head was on a swivel, eyeing the other students wandering the grounds. There wasn't anyone close by.

"Awakening ceremony?" He asked frowning, he hadn't heard of that before.

"You've never had one?" Nott asked sounding surprised as he opened his eyes to give Harry a searching look, then he nodded as though it made sense. "Suppose it's only the most traditional families that preform them nowadays."

"What's it do?" He turned to Nott and watched the other Slytherin.

"It's supposed to put you in touch with your magical core. You usually do it in your seventh year, it's the first step in a child beginning to control their magic and emotions." Nott informed him.

Harry found himself nodding, thinking about the time he had apparated on to the school roof. "I did start having more accidental bursts after I was seven."

Nott nodded and Harry assumed that was a normal part of magical core growth. Which was kind of reassuring, he couldn't remember the last time something about him was normal.

"We could do one now you know, if you've never done it. And after seven, eleven is the next most powerful number, we read that yesterday. I could guide you through it like my father did for me. It's usually parents or guardians that take their children through it but I don't think that's necessary."

"What if I'm already in touch with my magical core? How would I tell?" He asked thinking on all the wandless magic he had done in the past that the other children didn't seem capable.

Nott paused for a minute and Harry could tell he was remembering and trying to find the best way to explain.

"It's like a ball of warmth in your chest. Not like an organ or something, it's deeper than that, down to your very soul. But it moves around your body aswell. You can feel it running to your wand when you're doing a spell."

Harry could only feel his magic when he called it to do something, but not like Nott was describing. Sometimes he felt like maybe he was touching that place Nott was talking about. It seemed like it would be worth a try.

"And it gives you better control of your magic?" Better control was something he was very interested in.

He hadn't had a burst of accidental magic since the incident at the zoo but he'd felt it rush forth and hover around him a few times as though it was getting ready to strike. Surely it would help him with his wandless magic aswell. He'd probably be able to start to do something slightly bigger with it. He tried to do a wandless tripping jinx but it was a slow start. He thought it was probably because it was a real spell with arithmetic equations made up in wand movements and the syllables in the incantation. That was what Notts book on spell crafting said every spell was made up of. The wandless magic he'd done before was all sheer force of will and application of unformed magic. His mattress had tried to convert itself back by the time Harry had got back the following night but it was sort of misshapen now and slightly bumpy. It wasn't nearly as soft so Harry had sighed and accepted it.

"Sure. Once you can feel your core and become more aware of your magic, you can start controlling it. Like I said it's only the first step. You have to follow it up with meditation but once you can feel it, it's much easier to feel how to move it how you want, stop it reacting to strong emotions in unpredictable ways. Most children start using their accidental magic more consciously after that. A bit like wandless magic but not because you can't just do it whenever. " Nott shrugged at the last but he had shifted so he was sitting on his knees, eager for Harry to agree.

"And the risks?" Because he was a Slytherin and he wasn't walking in blind to anything if he could help.

Nott paused a sufficient amount of time to assure Harry he had thought about it.

"Like I said, it's the first step to control so at first you'll get this rush as you feel everything for the first time. You're bringing it forward and making yourself aware of it at the same time. You'll probably have more accidental magic until you get it under control. That's why it's a good idea if we do this soon, then you have plenty of time to get it in control for exams."

"It could take that long?" He asked wearily, he didn't want to seem completely inept.

But Nott shook his head.

"Doubt it. It took me maybe two or three months to have enough control. But you're older. You have more magic now than I did at seven so it might be more difficult. But you're also older and have better mental capacities so it could be easier." Nott shrugged again.

In the end Harry thought he had already made up his mind. The gain out-weighted the risks. He found himself nodding as he looked out over the calm grey waters or the lake and the mountains behind them.

"When should we do this?" He asked looking up at Nott again. "And do we need anything?"

"We can slip out an hour before astronomy tonight and use one of the empty classroom." Nott smirked at him and Harry could read the anticipation behind his eyes and felt it spread to himself.

He'd always had an organised mind. It had been a necessity at the Dursley's. Every night he had been thrown into his cupboard hours before he'd gotten tired enough to sleep. He'd known every crack, chip and shadow of his cupboard by the time he was five. To stave off bone deep boredom he had strained his ears to hear the television and visualise what would be shown on the screen.

Once primary school had begun and Petunia was forced to let him attend, he'd had things to think about that wasn't chores or the Dursley's. Not that he'd been allowed to enjoy school with Dudley and his friends isolating him from everyone there aswell. So he'd gone over lessons the teacher had told the class and Harry had absorbed. He'd begun to build a library in his mind to store his knowledge in the hopes of remembering it better. It had looked a lot like the library at his school at first but he'd decorated it differently with object and pictures on the shelves to help him remember what everything was and where he kept it.

As he got older, his punishments had gotten worse. He was locked in the cupboard for longer periods or time in the cramped half-darkness. His Uncle's heavy hand had gotten heavier until it grasped for his belt. As the pain he was subjected to got worse he combined his efforts or visualisation and his memory technique. He'd pictured his field.

When he'd seen the image on the television it had stuck him as a place or peace and beauty; things he was sorely lacking. It had become his happy place almost immediately and used it to calm himself down after a beating. The first time he tried to use it during a beating it had only been marginally successful. With practise he got better and unfortunately he had had plenty of cause to practise.

It had become substantially easier when he added a side door to his library and made his field a permeant feature in his mind and not something he had to call up but rather a place he had to go.

Eventually, the library had grown a bit cramped and he'd made it bigger. It changed again to look a bit more like the public library without the computers. He also added a comfy chair and a lamp so he could go back and read what he'd read before, or review a memory.

After recovering more of the memory of his parents death on the first night at Hogwarts, he had spent the time to go in and find the memory. It was sitting on top of one of the low half shelves he used to store the memories of when he was really small before he started school. Mostly it contained a lot of tears he no longer shed and a yearning for someone, anyone to rescue him that he had stopped feeling once all his teachers had believed Petunia that he was a trouble maker, a freak. He didn't have much use for them except to remember why and how he had gown hard and strong.

He'd taken the memory off the shelf. It wasn't like the other memories stored there. It was death and grief and precious to him in ways he didn't understand and didn't feel like dwelling on. In the end he'd decided to turn it into paint and splashed it across the wall next to his earliest memories. A sweeping wash of the red of his mothers hair painted itself across the wall with two big dots of bright green for the eyes they shared. Surrounding it was crystalline golden bubbles, bold white lilies and luminous green lightening bolts.

He walked past it to reach the door to his field. Nott had told him to meditate and sink into a half-conscious state similar to when he was under his uncles belt. He couldn't let go of his awareness of his surroundings and block everything out entirely for fear of what his uncle may do when he was insensate. At the moment he was concentrating on the sound and feel of Nott sitting across from him as he closed his eyes and tried to calm every corner of his mind.

His breathing slowed and felt the echo of grass tickling his skin aswell as the paradoxical feeling of the hard stone floor beneath him.

"Well done." Nott spoke in a low slow voice that drifted through the empty room and barely echoed off the cold stone walls. "Now reach down, down into your chest. Feel for your magic. Look for it. It could feel like a small sun or a fire. Maybe it's cold or wet, everyone is different."

Harry reached out with his senses for his magic like he did when trying to cast wandlessly. But this time he wasn't trying to get his magic to do anything. He just wanted to feel it. It took a moment before he felt the familiar warmth and tingle. Following it deeper he found what he was looking for.

A wave of trepidation rang through his spine as he began to sense his magic more closely. It was like a storm, rushing round on itself in a loose ball. Static energy seemed to arch out of one side to strike down on another in short familiar green bursts. Wind that was not wind but magic whirled round at speed and as he hesitantly reached for it reacted by bulging out in places in greeting.

He made the conscious effort to nod his head at Nott.

"Now reach out pull it up, closer to you. Let it settle into your body and flow. Stay as calm as you can. _In virtute dei excitare, penitusque a somno exsuscitem_." Nott intoned, his voice seeming to come from further away than it had before.

He reached out and pulled it into himself. Power rushed up through his body and he felt himself getting shunted from his field into his Library. It was like electricity running through his body and he felt himself tense. With the magic came more.

Information and memories flooded through his brain and he didn't know where they came from. He was another boy in another sad little room that looked a bit like his room at the Dursley's. Then he was standing on a hill watching people in dark cloaks and masks gather around him. In Hogwarts but Dumbledore was teaching transfiguration, looking down at him with suspicion in his eyes. Then was no time to understand what happening as another life flashed before his eyes and they flew through his library knocking over his own shelves in a wave of destruction.

It was too much and he'd barely focused on one memory and it was already being pushed aside for another. A panicked thought ran across his brain "I'm going to go mad!" and it took a moment to realise it was his own.

Suddenly his brain grasped something. A piece of information. Memories connected by a loose thread. Occlumency. He knew what he had to do. And his magic helped him do it.

It was like a magical bubble appeared absorbing most of the foreign thoughts, holding them in the air. His library righted itself, enlarging and making space for the bubble of swirling disorganised thought.

He opened his eyes with a fierce gasp and began panting and leaning forwards on to his crossed legs. Nott was watching him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. His own magic hummed around him thicker than it ever had before but that wasn't the most shocking. What was shocking was that he could see Nott's magic aswell, like he could see the school's wards but much stronger. It was ocean blue and ruby red and leaf green moving fractionally across his skin, looking reminiscent of silk scarves.

"You're more powerful than I thought." Nott whispered as though he couldn't believe it himself.

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

"I could feel it. As the ceremony was complete it came out of you like a wave." He paused looking thoughtful. "It might be because your older than usual but, honestly, that was like nothing I've ever felt before. I can still feel it now, brushing against me."

Nott seemed to repress a shiver but his magic did it for him, shimmering like a heat haze. Harry watched it, fascinated.

"What?" Nott asked sharply. "You're looking at me like I am a particularly interesting insect."

Harry snorted but did pull himself away from observing the colours roll across his roommates skin. He could feel his own magic rather than see it but he could tell it hung around them. Not thick and full of electricity it did when he was under threat but in a much calmer and passive way. And in his chest but not, he could feel the swirling ball of magic like he hadn't before. Nott was right, there was a lot of it.

He tried to pull it closer towards him so he wasn't filling the room with it. After a few minute he managed it and noticed the tension leave Nott's body.

"Do you reckon the teacher will notice?" He asked.

He sure felt different in himself but he didn't know if other people would be able to tell. Nott shook his head still looking at Harry a little strangely.

"No, if you keep it contained like this you're like any other first year. Noticeable more powerful than the average but you'd have to really concentrate to pick you apart from everyone else walking round." Nott hesitated. "How do you feel?"

Harry ponder that for a moment. He felt tired and wired at the same time. He would have loved to go lay down in his bed in the dark but he also couldn't imagine he would be able to fall asleep any time soon. His magic ran through his body sending tingles and goose bumps in their wake. He also had to sort out the foreign memories currently being held by a bubble of subtly magic. He could feel them straining and pushing at it, trying to escape and wreck destruction on his mind. He didn't say any of that.

"I can see you're magic now, too." It was another thing no one had mentioned but he could tell if seeing magic was so common knowledge it was hardly worth saying or another odd thing about him.

"What!?" Nott spluttered in a very un-Nott-like way. "Wait. Too? What could you see before?"

Harry allowed a frown to sit on his face. Another odd thing about him then.

"I can see the wards of the school. Not well. It just sort of shimmers abit but when we went through it on the boat here, it felt like I passed through a wall of magic. No one else seemed to notice." He decided to reveal this bit of information, as a test to see what Nott would do with it.

Nott made a huff sound that might have been a laugh if it didn't lack all humour.

"They wouldn't. Being able to even sense magic, let along see it is very, very rare. They say only the most powerful can do it but I think that's just because it doesn't run in families and so they don't really know why." Nott looked him up and down cautiously. "What's my magic look like?"

Harry focused on it again.

"Sort of like thin wispy scarves. It's mostly blue and green but you've got some red in there aswell." Harry answered trying to find the appropriate words.

Nott shook his head as he assimilated the information.

"Right. Now everything's up to you. Meditation and emotional control are key. If you've got questions ask. I said I'd help you with this so I will." He shook his head again as if he couldn't quite believe what had happened and cast a tempus. "Come on, we've got to head up to the astronomy tower."

Harry was shocked that their hour had passed so quickly. But he nodded and got up, brushing the bottom of his robes to get rid of the dust that had been missed with the cleaning charms they had used before they sat down. Once astronomy was over he was going to explore the foreign memories in his head and the knowledge of Occlumency he had suddenly procured.

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 **This was one of the first chapters I had envisioned when I came up with this story. I've already wrote out some scenes set much later like 1st year Halloween, The Chamber of secrets and Harry's first encounter with the Boggart third year but this is the first one to slot in. Please review. =)**


	8. Memory Moves In The Opposite Direction

**I've totally been distracted by Umbrella Academy and have written two chapters of a new fic. I still brought you this though. Enjoy x.**

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He sat in the back of the classroom with Nott at his side, half listening to the Astronomy teacher's opening lecture about the year ahead and what they would be covering and what was expected of them. Much the same as all their teachers that week. Harry wasn't sure why they had to have the class at night when the actual stars were out. Surely someone had come up with a magical equivalent to those projection things, a home planetarium. Dudley had had one for about all of five seconds before he broke it.

It was a much better view than he would have got back in Surrey had he been locked out for the night. There wasn't a muggle town for miles and Hogsmeade only had a few lamps. The sky was awash with stars. That didn't mean he wanted to stay up late every Wednesday, freezing, as he charted the constellations and other heavenly bodies.

He was a bit curious on how the stars or even the moon had an affect on magic though. They'd learnt a bit about the solar system in science class at his primary school. Harry knew that the stars they were looking at were so very, very far away that the light they were looking at was millions of years old. Some of the stars in the sky had died, exploded into supernova millions of years ago and that they wouldn't be able to tell until the light reached the Earth. There were probably new stars out there too that they couldn't see yet, whose light hadn't reached them. Did the magic move with the light?

He might have enjoyed pondering that thought if it weren't for the tension headache that was forming behind his eyes.

Nott was taking notes beside him so Harry decided to slip into his mindscape and begin to unravel his problem and hopefully relive his headache. He kept enough awareness of his surroundings so he would recognise his voice or know if the door behind him opened.

The even corridors created by the tall shelves was just the same as it normally was. It was lit in pleasant peach sunset tones from unseen windows. Familiar oak shelves held familiar books and familiar nick-knacks and placeholders. Strolling deeper in he came to the wider space created to house the invading memories that had appeared in his mindscape not half an hour earlier.

They swarmed in a tight circle, rolling and roiling over each other, seemingly attacking the edges of the magic that held them in place. They reminded him of piranha or some other deadly fish, ready to clean his bones of flesh within moments. But he was holding them at bay; it wasn't even a strain.

One memory chain hung outside the others, in mid-air twirling on a non-existent breeze. The memories themselves were like liquid mirror, warping gracefully and wrapped around each of them, but in no way binding them, were delicate silvery chains. Instinctively he knew that each memory was different, held different knowledge, had happened at different times but through all ran a common thread, a common theme that linked the knowledge together into a whole picture.

It was the thread he had pulled at subconsciously when the invasion had peaked. Nott hadn't spoken about anything like it when they were talking about risks and Harry was hesitant to tell him. He just didn't know him well enough yet and after a lifetime looking out for himself against the world, he couldn't just trust someone he didn't know.

He reached out and touched the thread. Like before, almost as if someone was reading him the title, the word Occlumency popped into his head. The Art of protecting ones mind from outside influences. Something he wanted to know about.

He reached out with both hands and sort of absorbed the knowledge held in his imaginary palms. Suddenly he knew what he had been doing. He'd created a shield and imprisoned a perceived intruder in his mindscape. It was made of magic and he could use something similar to protect his whole mind.

He'd been practising the beginner steps to Occlumency his whole life with his visualisation and memory techniques accidentally. Like he had known without knowing. He had a problem though. Without knowing his mind could be attacked or infiltrated, and it could with Legilimency, he had left himself wide open for attack. Anyone with the skill could waltz into his mind and , thanks to Harry's organisation skills, find anything they wanted. Anything he had experienced, anything he knew. They could know it to. Or change it.

Anyone rifling around his head was unacceptable. It was his and his alone.

But a problem for later, as he needed to know what was going on with the foreign memories that were swirling in front of him. Knowing now what he did about the Mind Arts, he delicately used his magic to pull out some of the memories without releasing the rest of the storm on himself. It was a familiar sensation although not one he had ever experienced. Concentrating he followed the familiarity to the ball of memories before him.

The first memory he pulled out was of a boy. He was in one of the Slytherin bedrooms. He climbed under the bed with green sheets that matched Harry's own, when he was sure he was alone and carved his name to the underneath of it with a pocket knife. Harry had always wanted one, he'd reached for it even though he had never owned one. There were other names there too. Hogwarts alumni probably going back centuries. Tom Riddle.

The next showed an older Tom. Out of Hogwarts and working in Knockturn Alley. A place called Borgin and Burkes. It was primarily a pawn shop but Borgin dealt on the side in questionable artefacts and books. Tom had worked in the front sometimes and tidied up and sorted through inventory but his favourite part had been acquisition. Spotting the treasure among the rubbish. Finessing people into selling their family heirlooms to him at a much lower price than they had originally been willing.

All the while he had been collecting and amassing knowledge, acquiring magical power and gaining political capital. He began lobbying the Wizengamot and rallying the people but nothing was working. He was losing his patience. The Knights of Walpurgis weren't enough.

The last began in semi-darkness and Harry struggled to see what was happening. People moved around him. Then a light flared and he caught sight of Tom. He had changed, his skin was pallid instead of porcelain, his pale blue eyes burnt a blood red, his handsome features distorted until what was left was reptilian and repelling. He waved an arm and the people around him moved forwards, spells flying from their wands. Across from them was a building and in the moment he could not recognise it because he suddenly knew who Tom was.

The Dark Lord Voldemort.

Harry pulled away from each memory and absently watched them hover in front of him. The first had been emerald green and felt sort of hopeful and determined. The second had been made up of two or three parts and seemed metallic and pointy. The last didn't just hang suspended like the other two, it moved slightly side-to-side and dripped without ever dripping a dark rusty colour.

They were the Dark Lord's memories. In his head. A lot of things made a sudden sort of sense. Impulses he'd never been able to explain. Things he'd sort of just known. Why he had such an urgency to buy a wand even though at the time he hadn't known why he had thought it so important. Why the common room felt so familiar and why he felt like he already knew the castle when he'd only just gotten there. Hell, maybe it was why he had been so quick to believe in magic when everyone around him was telling him it was impossible.

Obviously something more had happened that night than Voldemort losing his power. He'd left something with Harry.

He put the memories about Occlumency in his pocket to find a place for it later and used his Occlumency to make the memories follow him. He walked to the back edge of his library and built a door like the door on the Restricted section in Hogwarts Library. When he pushed the door open he found a room much like the one he had left behind except it was marginally darker, the shelves were mahogany and it was much smaller and cramped.

The pulled the writhing mass of memories in with him and closed the door so none could escape, before he released them. He roped the memories of magic Tom had studied and shoved them to the front shelves leaving personal memories to shuffle themselves further back.

He locked the door behind him with four heavy padlocks. It would have to do for now.

Harry knew he wouldn't feel happy until he knew every inch of his brain again. Everything had seriously unbalanced him and he needed time to recover. He would go through everything tomorrow. And he would try to decide how he felt about have the-most-evil-wizard-in-living-memories' memories stored in his head.

Part of him was freaking out, screaming 'What the FUCK does this mean!' but another, larger, probably the Slytherin in him, was saying Tom Riddle went to Hogwarts. He studied all kinds of things, must have to be as worshiped as he was. And all that knowledge was in his head to do with what he pleased. It had already helped him by providing him with Occlumency shields and pointing out a giant flaw in his mindscape that someone might have taken advantage of. Not everything in the Wizarding world was going to be learnable through books and he had to know he didn't know something to ask Nott about it.

He filled the Occlumency memory chain on an appropriate shelf, leaving it looking as it did.

He had to be careful. He had to watch his behaviour and his thinking. Making sure it was only him and that he hadn't been affected in some way. He didn't feel like he was about to go on a murderous rampage but that was right then. He would be on high alert.

He would practise his Occlumency shields every night and begin building traps and tricks into his mindscape. He would begin to sort through the Dark Lord's memories for anything useful but that would take some time. He would control his magics, he would control his mind and continue to improve his body. Soon he would be able to manage three full meals a day without throwing it all back up and he would begin jogging in the mornings.

He had everything under control.

Harry came back to the class room as Professor Sinatra handed out their individual star maps that they would be filling out as the year went on to get a proper feel for the sky above. Nott side eyed him and he thought he had probably noticed him check out. Nott just twisted his notes so that Harry could read them in the hazy blue lights that were around the edges of their desks so they could see without losing view of the stars.

He picked up his quill and jotted down the main bullet points of the lecture he had missed. For a moment his handwriting shifted into something familiar as he remembered writing a random essay through Tom's eyes. Muscle memory, he reasoned. But nothing was really in the body was it? It was all in the mind, that was what really remembered. Either way the quill was easier to use.

He managed to get it so it looked more like his handwriting and less like Tom's but it was neater than he had managed with a quill so far. He would probably have to re-write the essays he had done so far for continuity. He couldn't let anyone know he had someone else's memories and he could already imagine the uproar if anyone found out they were the Dark Lord's. Some people thought he was the next Dark Lord just because he had been sorted into Slytherin. It would be no use adding fuel to the fire.

He received his empty star chart and they were finally dismissed.

"You alright?" Nott murmured once they were back in Slytherin territory, hanging back from the others a bit.

He hummed an affirmative.

Harry changed into his pyjamas in the bathroom once they had gotten back and brushed his teeth. As he did he remembered the spell for cleaning your teeth. It was in the second year charms textbook. He hadn't actually seen any of the others clean their teeth and he wondered if they all knew the spell already.

He only had half a tube of tooth paste and he had began rationing it straight away wondering how he was going to make it last a year. Suddenly he had the answer. He wouldn't have to. He just had to learn the charm. He knew their were other personal grooming spells, he over heard a group of girls talking about it and had listened with half an ear, storing the information. He knew they didn't need a lot of power but some where a bit finicky. He didn't want to turn his teeth green or lose them all together.

By the time he had gotten back in the room the others were all passed out in their beds. He put away his stuff back into his trunk and hung his uniform back in his wardrobe ready for the morning. He set his alarms around the wardrobe. On impulse he found himself on his knees and slipping under the four-poster bed.

Names had been carved into the base. A long list; some of them were familiar. A Malfoy had slept in his bed and probably all the beds. A Burke, a Nott, a Black, another Malfoy. Three before the end, Tom Riddle. He climbed back out, opening his trunk and pulling out the small knife he had bought to sharpen his quills. Crawling back under he soon added his own name to the list of Slytherin Alumni. The first Potter on the list. It had been eight hundred years since one of his ancestors was sorted into the House of Snakes. That was what the Bloody Baron had said and he had been at Hogwarts since nearly the beginning according to Hogwarts, A History.

That was a long time.

888

The next day started with a headache followed by transfiguration. The very walls of Hogwarts seemed to hum more noticeably than before and he thought it was purposefully brushing against him, as a giant invisible cat might. It was like the castle was aware that he was aware. He was even picking up on something almost female about it. Her.

Colours he hadn't seen before moved around and through his classmates bodies, flaring with emotion or as a spell was cast. Doors and tapestries and portions of staircases glowed slightly. It was like he had peeled back a layer of reality but it was a really distracting and bright section of reality. He knew he probably was beginning to get almost noticeably twitchy before him and Nott had even made it to the Great Hall.

He strengthened his Occlumency barriers as he had been practising since he had awoken that morning, focusing on his body. He wasn't going to draw attention to himself. Nott was already looking at him funny and that was more than enough.

He managed to eat three rations of bacon, two slices of buttered toast, two fried eggs and a sausage as he subtly looked around the Great Hall. The field of colours whirled around the student body like an ocean with its own currents and eddies. The teachers were much more restrained but he could see the colours shift just the same; there was noticeably more of it and it was brighter than the children. Even the projection of the sky outside that sat above them was subtly effected by the magics below it. Around the edges of the illusion he could see the magic that linked it to the walls and floors of the Great Hall, anchored to the building itself. It was a more impressive piece of magic looking at it like that.

He led Nott to another short cut so they got to Transfiguration with plenty of time and found seats together at the back of the class. A cat sat on the desk in front of them. It wasn't uncommon. Familiars were given practically free reign of the castle, especially animals like cats and owls. Some followed their masters to classes and the Great Hall.

But as Harry looked at the cat he noted that it didn't have the small, dull shift of browns he had noticed in other animals. The cats aura, for lack of better word, was strong and bright, shifting like that of the teachers he had seen at breakfast. It was a wizard.

An Animagus, his brain supplied. A witch or wizard that could turn them selves into an animal at will. It wasn't a transfiguration. There wasn't a wand movement or an incantation to trigger the change. In fact you didn't even need a wand. It was a very difficult process though. And you didn't pick the animal, it was a refection of the wizard in some way.

Everyone was settled, getting out their parchment and quills and Harry hadn't taken his eyes of the cat that sat assessing the students in front of it.

"What is it?" Nott asked from besides him.

"It's an Animagus." He murmured back as low as he could, leaning in slightly.

"Huh?" Nott watched the it with narrowed brown eyes. "I did hear that McGonagall was one."

"Don't be so obvious." Harry told him and Nott went back to reaching into his bag for something.

It was then that two Gryffindors burst through the doors at a run. They slowed down as they made their way down the middle aisle.

The Ginger one made a loud huffing noise and laughed. He was a Weasley, the sixth son. Nott had said that he thought Dumbledore had done a favour for the Weasleys by giving all their children a place at Hogwarts, places they couldn't afford on their own. Mrs Weasley's brothers had died working for Dumbledore in the last War.

"She's not here yet." He said to his companion.

Next to him was Seamus Finnegan. His mother was an Irish witch from a Pureblood family. He'd heard that she married a muggle man and didn't tell him about magic until Seamus got his Hogwarts letter. Seamus had described it as a 'bit of a nasty shock'. Harry wondered how long the relationship would last. One with a secret that huge couldn't be a healthy one.

Then the cat was leaping off the table towards them. Mid-air she changed and took the form of their very stern professor.

"Take your seats Mr Weasley, Mr Finnigan." She said as she looked down on them. "If you make a habit of being late to your classes I shall see about turning one of you into a pocket watch. Surely then you will be on time."

"We got lost, Professor." Finnigan pipped up as they shuffled into two seats on the Gryffindor side of the room.

"Perhaps a map then." She cleared hr throat and turned back to the classroom. Unrolling a long scroll she began calling their names out and marking off on the register. Once she was done she rolled it up at put it on her very organised desk.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." She said. "Anyone messing around in any class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. Some made impressed noises and whispered to their neighbours. They proceeded in taking a lot of complex notes about the basic tenets of transfiguration. He'd read just over half of their text book and he knew to be good at transfiguration one had to be good at visualisation and be creative. Harry thought he had both of those down.

The theory was a bit harder to get his head around but by the time they were moving on to the practical he was pretty sure he understood. Professor McGonagall handed out matches to each of them and went over the incantation one more time.

With the familiar warmth of his wand in his hand, Harry practised the wand movement a few times to make sure he was getting it right. Then he took a moment to picture the needle he was going to change the match into. It was silver, pointy at one end, a small eyelet at the other for the thread to go through. He'd spent time sewing, darning socks and repairing whatever Petunia threw his way.

Then he moved his wand, said the incantation, holding the image of the needle in his mind. He felt his magic shift and flow down his wand. The match shifted becoming metallic and pointy. He picked it up. It felt like metal in his fingers. He rubbed it across his desk. It didn't light and the metal of the symmetrical eyelet didn't even tarnish. He'd done it!

Now what?

The Professor was at the front of the class leaning over someone's desk. Nott was still trying to get his match pointier as it was made of metal now even if it was the wrong shape. He looked back at the Professor and saw her stand up straight and give the class a once over. He lifted his hand into the air.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" She asked with pinched lips when she had reached his desk.

"I've done it, Professor." He showed her his transfigured needle.

She picked it out of his hand and he subtly wiped his hand against his robes to get rid of the itch she had left behind as her fingers brushed his hand.

"Well done, Mr Potter. Two points to Slytherin." She said as looked it over. "Your father was always good at transfiguration. It was his best subject."

She said it as if that explained why he had done so well. He refused to let his face shift from polite respect even as he wished to tell her his father had nothing to do with it. He'd read ahead and tried to understand the theory unlike some people in the class.

"Thank you, Professor." He nodded to her.

"Why don't you help Mr Nott there." She said as she turned away back to the Gryffindor said of the class.

"Do you want my help?" He said through his teeth without turning to look at Nott.

"No, I've almost got it." He answered before repeating the incantation again.

He looked back to the needle his professor had left on his desk. He finite'd it and returned it to it's match-like shape. Then he pictured another needle, slightly bigger than the match, with intricate vine design going round it in a spiral pattern until it formed a point at one end and split to shape the eyelet at the other. He spent a bit more time picturing it than he had the first, trying to remember all the details from all sides.

When he said the incantation again he put a little more power into it to compensate for the added size. The match shifted once more and what he had imagined appeared on his desk in front of him. He glanced a Nott and saw him blinking at the intricate needle in front of him.

Nott gave him an acknowledging nod before turning back to his own nearly perfect needle, at least in look. It turned out it was still as soft as the wood it had been originally by the end of the lesson. McGonagall had given Granger five points when she achieved her transfiguration though.

It was a double so they had lunch followed by their first Défense against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Quirrell. The whole room stunk of garlic. Word had already spread through the Slytherin grapevine that Quirrell was useless and the older students had started organising independent study groups so they wouldn't fall behind.

Harry wasn't going to fall behind either. He was 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' and he was fully aware he couldn't risk not being able to defend himself. He was already worried about the food and the many poisonous potions ingredients he, and therefore everyone else, had access to. He'd asked Nott on Wednesday about Owl ordering stuff and was waiting on a box of bezoars and some more parchment because it had become clear he had seriously under estimated how much he would need.

Quirrell's magic was weird though. Around his turban sat an icky gross something. So weird he hardly noticed the man's stutter and hesitant countenance. It was almost like a fungus if light and colour could be a fungus. It was puss-y and had a half dead feel about it. As he watched it would shift and Quirrell's magic would shift with it. Like the thing was sucking at his magic. It made him feel ill and the feeling only intensifies when the man caught his eye and a pain lanced through his head, centring on his scar.

It was a legilimency probe and he focused on strengthening his shields as he felt himself tense all over. It was gone as suddenly as it was there but he watched Quirrell wearily after that. Nott had noticed to and it was only the fact that they sat at the back again that no one else had. He was going to stay as far away from the defence Professor as humanly possible.

The headache he'd had all day was throbbing by the time they got back to the common room after dinner. Still, he sat with the others and worked on his essays and rewriting the three he had already finished. They looked much neater.

He took the time to meditate and work on his shields once he was secure in his bed. It had been a long day.


	9. Making Friends and Influencing People

They only had one lesson on Fridays. Double potions. Practically the whole House had warned the first years that even though Professor Snape favoured them somewhat, he expected them to all be very prepared. So Harry spent a portion of his morning waiting for Nott to wake up and reading back over the first few chapters of his potions book again.

Potions had caught his attention early after he had visited Diagon Alley the first time. It was infinitely useful. Most of what you could achieve through a spell, you could achieve through a potion. It was a very flexible discipline. He'd finished the assigned text and was most of the way through the other books he had picked up on the subject.

He would have looked forwards to it if his Head of House hadn't made it very clear that he, for whatever reason, did not like him. He wondered how that was going to translate to the classroom when Slytherins were supposed to show a united front in front of the other houses.

And they shared potions, a volatile subject, with the Gryffindors, their rivals. It was a recipe for disaster.

There were four to a desk so him and Nott picked the one at the back and shared it was Zabini and Greengrass. Davis had paired with Parkinson, Bulstrode and Runcorn had chosen to sit with them rather than Malfoy and his goons in the front row. On the right side of the room, the Longbottom Heir and Granger sat at the front with the half-blood Lily Moon and a muggleborn Faye Dunbar. The Gryffindor Patil and Lavender Brown were in the back row with Dean Thomas with Weasley and Finnegan in the middle row.

The room itself was dark and dank. He knew from _Hogwarts, A History_ that potions had always been conducted in the dungeons due to the almost constant temperature throughout the year, fluctuations during storage could affect an ingredient when they were later used. Salazar Slytherin had supposedly been a Potions Master as well as a Master of the Dark Arts, so that was probably why the Slytherin common room was down there as well, apart from it's obvious defensive capabilities.

On the shelves were jars of preserved ingredients in brown and sickly yellow liquids. Creature bits and cuts from plants and other things Harry couldn't identify. He watched some of the Gryffindor's peer up at them with wrinkled noses and others, like the Longbottom Heir, shiver and shy away.

All in all the room had an overall oppressive and intimidating feel to it and the others couldn't even see the faint throbbing glow that surrounded some of the jars.

Then a side door swung open dramatically and their Professor swept in. The room became dead-silent and Professor Snape began calling out the register in his hushed but commanding tone. When he reached Harry's name there was a definite pause but he went ahead as if he was just another student. When he was finished he turned his tunnel-like black eyes to survey the class.

"You are here you learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of a softy simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep though the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death- If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed that speech and Harry thought silence was actually a common occurrence in Snape's class. He risked a look to his right to see Nott look at him too. They shared a look that clearly said that neither of them was going to be proven a dunderhead.

"Potter!" Snape snapped suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Granger's hand flew into the air and she held it there stiffly.

"Draught of Living Death, Sir." He answered with a slight tilt of his head, a show of submission that made him want to grind his teeth, but he needed the man on-side or at least not against him.

It was mentioned in the introduction as an example of a complex potion and all the common disastrous affects it could have when brewed wrong. They wouldn't be brewing it until sixth year, if they made it into the NEWT classes.

"And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" He asked his lips slightly pinched.

The bezoar's he had ordered on Wednesday had arrived that morning so Harry was half tempted to just pull one out. But he was trying to get on with the man and Harry didn't think he would appreciate humour. He didn't seem to appreciate Granger's waving hand either. The Professor had asked Harry the question. Was she so sure he was an idiot or was she desperate for everyone to know she knew the answers too?

"In the stomach of a goat, Sir." That had been in the chapter on Health and Safety in a potions lab and was recommended to keep around in case of accidental poisonings.

"Finally, What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" His eyes had narrowed but his voice stayed neutral.

"Nothing, Sir. It's also known as aconite." That was an easy one, listed among the basic and common fauna of Britain in One Thousand Herbs and Fungi.

Snape paused.

"Five points to Slytherin." Then he stopped his keen focus on Harry and looked at the rest of the class. "Well, why aren't you all writing this down?"

Harry wasn't sure if that had been a test of some kind or if his teacher had been trying to show him up.

A sudden rummaging of quills and parchment followed. Soon they were set up in pairs and preparing a cure for boils. Thanks to his extra reading he knew the differences between chopping and slicing, unlike some of his classmates, mainly Crabbe and Goyle and the Gryffindors. Nott let him take the lead after about ten minutes when it became obvious that of the two of them Harry knew what he was doing the best.

Nott had whispered to him that his father held a low opinion of potions so hadn't added it to Nott's tutoring before Hogwarts. Harry promised to lend him the beginners book he'd picked up that explained the basics that their textbook seemed to assume they already knew.

Almost an hour into the lesson there was an explosion from the front of the classroom. When Harry looked up from his own potion he found that the Longbottom Heir as well as Granger, were covered in boils. They hadn't added enough ginger if they'd remembered to add it at all. Then one of them, probably Longbottom had added the porcupine quills while their cauldron was on the fire. The cauldron itself had melted and the ruined brew had splashed on the floor and begun eating it. Soon most of the class was balanced on their stools so as to the avoid the acidic liquid.

Harry balanced on his knees and kept stirring at a consistent gentle pace so as not to excite the Shrake spines. As it turned pink he added the stewed horned-slugs Nott had prepared.

"Idiot boy!" Snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with a flick of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom whimpered and Harry could see tears beginning to steam down Granger's face as she tried not to cry by biting her bottom lip.

"Take them to the hospital wing." He pointed at Finnegan and the boy quickly herded his injured Housemates out of the class room.

"Return to your work." He snapped at the rest of the class.

Some of them had left their brew unattended for too long and found themselves unable to recover. Harry and Nott's potion was perfect. Fifthteen minutes before the end of the class pink smoke began rising off of their potion and Harry had taken it off the fire to cool so he could bottle it.

He also bottled three more vials subtly and stuck them in one of his pockets. The potion could be used to cure the result of the pimple jinx and the boils hex, both of which sounded quite nasty from the description in their Defence against Dark Arts textbook. He was going to have to buy more potions vials as well.

It was sort of depressing every time he found how woefully under-prepared he had been coming to Hogwarts. He blamed this on Hagrid and therefore Dumbledore, who had sent him. He'd found out that McGonagall was the one who went to meet the muggleborns and introduced them and their parents to the wizarding world. The witch probably had a better idea of what he would need to know and what he would need to bring and in what quantities, had she been the one to bring him to Diagon Alley, knowing that that stuff wasn't on the acceptance letter.

He'd sent Nott to the front with their potion while he tidied up their workstation. He watched through his long fringe as the Professor took the potions vial from Nott and gave him a nod.

As the two of them left the classroom to return to the common room, Nott leaned in to him slightly.

"So did you spit in one of Snape's experimental potions, or what?" His deep brown eyes gleaming with humour.

Harry snorted.

"Yeah. Or what."

888888888888

After a careful look around at the memories he had procured he realised three things.

He had the theoretical knowledge for all seven years at Hogwarts. All the core subjects as well as Arithmancy and Runes because that was what Tom had studied when he attended. This meant he could likely sit his History and Astronomy NEWT in the morning and pass with an E or an O.

However, knowledge wasn't understanding. He had a certain amount of muscle memory so he could do the wand movements perfectly after a few tries and the incantation usually jumped into his mind when he saw a spell's movement even if it was cast wordlessly by one of the teachers. But it didn't help his magic do what he wanted it to do and if he didn't understand how a spell worked or what it did, it wasn't going to work at all. He got the transfiguration spells quicker than he did charms because of his own aptitude.

Thirdly, alot of the Dark Lord's memories were extremely unpleasant.

He hadn't really noticed at first as he stuck to school related memories that he thought would be useful to him as an almost clueless first year and hadn't strayed into the personal. Then he'd been woken on Thursday morning by another nightmare.

Nightmares were something he'd had to deal with all his life but it wasn't the familiar if horrifying death of his parents that time. Instead he'd been tried down to a bed while a priest read Latin over him making his insides writhe. He'd struggled against the ropes physically, knowing that if he used his power he would be in more trouble. As the man's voice got louder, explosions started sounding from outside the small grey room he was trapped in. A haunting siren began to wail and the bombs being dropped on London screeched before landing and sending crashes echoing to his ears but he priest just read louder.

He'd woken suddenly, sweating and gasping for breath, as his bed hit the ground from it's previous position hovering three inches in the air. He'd looked around wildly until the green curtains around his bed reminded him of where he was and who he was.

Was that Riddle's nightmare or was it his own as he assimilated the data that had been dumped in his head. A brief look confirmed that the muggle's who ran the orphanage Tom Riddle grew up in had tried to preform an exorcism on him. It hadn't banished his magic or what ever the muggles were trying to do, but it had done something. His magic had moved and throbbed, mildly painful, very uncomfortable and undeniably frightening.

Taking a shaky breath, he'd pushed aside his curtains and released the charms around his bed with his wand that had appeared in his hand as he woke.

Looking up he saw Nott half-standing up half sitting on his bed. It was early and the sun hadn't risen yet. The dorm was in semi-darkness only lit by the eerie green glow that emanated through the small round windows.

"You alright, Potter?" Nott had asked barely above a whisper.

Harry had nodded and cast a tempus charm. It was half five. Time to get up.

"Are you getting up?" Nott inquired mildly incredulous as Harry begun getting his stuff together.

Harry had nodded again and Nott slipped out of his own bed. Harry watched him get his stuff together out of the corner of his eye. He'd had the bathroom to himself so far because of his odd schedule and had managed to avoid any of the other boys seeing his scars.

But Nott had gotten straight into the shower after stripping down without a glance in Harry's direction. With his clothes just outside the shower stall, he risked removing his own pyjamas and slipping into the shower next to Nott's.

"Did I wake you up?" He said only loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water.

"Yeah but it's fine. Do you always get up this early? You're always in the common room waiting." Nott called back.

"Sometimes I get another half an hour. I'm used to waking up early." Usually to the shrill tone of his Aunt Petunia.

Harry finished his shower before Nott and quickly towel dried himself, throwing his clothes on before Nott emerged from his own shower, towel wrapped round his waist. He moved towards the sinks to put on his tie and grab his brush. His hair was damp so he ran the brush through it easily working out the knots. Nott soon joined him in front of the mirrors.

The other boy did use the toothbrushing charm. Harry watched him do it in the mirror. The incantation was simple enough.

"Do you have a book on personal grooming charms?" He asked.

It was sort of embarrassing but he was determined not to be embarrassed. He wanted to be a proper wizard. He wanted to clean his teeth with magic. He wanted to clean his eventual house with magic. He wanted to know everything Nott knew or would know about the wizarding world just by living in it.

Harry didn't want to stick out like the muggleborns did and he didn't want to treat magic like some theme park with flashing lights. It was a whole secret world with a history, a culture, a narrative all of it's own. He was part of it and it was part of his new life, one where he was strong and powerful and most certainly not a slave.

He wanted to assimilate.

"If you tell me who raised you." Nott said, looking at him in the mirror.

It was going to come out at some point, the fact that he had evaded subtle prodding had just made Nott more interested.

"My mother's sister and her husband." He kept eye contact as he said, keeping his face as blank as possible.

"You're mother was muggleborn." He didn't twitch or say it like it was a dirty word.

Harry inclined his head watching Nott's every move. Nott nodded too.

"I thought so." His voice was casual as he turned back to his own reflection. "You've done admirably well so far."

"Thank you." He said because Slytherin's had no time for modesty.

"I'll owl Father to send me a few different books." Nott did up his own tie.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the word few. People didn't do something for nothing, even do-gooders did it for their own personal gratification and that wasn't enough of a bargain for a snake.

"And in return?"

"I want you're help learning Occlumency. I know you know it." Nott turned to face him then. "You went into a meditative state too quickly for someone without practise and I saw you in Astronomy. What I don't get is how you can know it if you were raised by muggles?"

Silence hung between them. Eventually Harry spoke.

"I was raised by muggles. I can't tell you how I know the Minds Arts, especially if you can't protect your mind." He paused again, wondering if he was making the right move. "I have been wondering about legilimency. I thought I was going to have to wait to practise on the muggles but if I'm teaching you Occlumency, I will have to practise it on you to test your defences... And I wouldn't mind having my own defences checked as well."

He let the thought sit with the other boy a moment.

"I would demand a secrecy oath, going both ways. I won't tell anyone what I might see and you wont breath a word of what you might see." He continued.

It was a particularly big risk but it did have the opportunity for huge gain. Occlumency was usually learnt in pairs, master and apprentice. But two students could learn it together and it would be quicker and easier than learning alone. There was a small risk that Nott might find some of the Dark Lord's memories but they were at the very back of his mind behind a locked door.

Harry would have to fend off his attacks and find the best ways to defend his brain. And his as yet untested knowledge on legilimency would improve with experience. He would learn to slip in unnoticed.

Nott's eyes narrowed and Harry could tell he was considering all the angles of deal before them. Eventually the other boy nodded.

"We'll quibble over the wording of the oath later." Then Nott proceeded to teach him the teeth cleaning charm.

They spent the time waiting for everyone to join them in the common room discussing the merit of physical exercise. By the time the room had filled and it was time for breakfast Harry thought he had brought Nott round to his way of thinking, if only to excel at duelling. The other first years were all talking about their first flying lessons that were due to start that day.

Nott had a broom of his own but said he didn't ride it much. Harry himself was a bit nervous. He had imagined flight, of course but to actually do it was something else. And he remembered quite clearly Tom's first flying lesson as well, where he had nearly fallen off his room. He didn't want to make a complete idiot out of himself.

Malfoy told rather loud and concocted stories about his flying prowess that largely ended with him narrowly missing muggle helicopters. Then he went on to moan about the rules against first years being allowed to bring their own brooms.

Harry forced himself to eat a decent sized breakfast. He couldn't afford to miss a meal, even if he was mildly nauseous. Seeing the ancient looking brooms, with their clearly missing twigs and the tarnished varnish, didn't help that particular feeling.

He ended up standing in between Nott and Zabini at the other end of the line from Malfoy and his goons. The Gryffindors were lined up across from them. Quite a few of them looked nervous, biting their lips and giving the brooms fearful looks as though they might attack. Most of his house mates were pureblood and had therefore been on a broom before.

He distracted himself by giving the wards a look without drawing attention to himself. He could see so much more of it than he could the first night. Even in the day time the fine lines of woven magic hung in the air in a multitude of colours. Magic itself was glorious, but seeing it was breath-taking.

Madam Hooch swept through the class, giving them an extremely brief overview of how to fly, then individually corrected their stances. It didn't boost his confidence, even if the broom did jump right into his hand, and neither did watching the Longbottom heir fall ten foot out of the air and break his wrist. Harry heard the crack from where he stood and barely suppressed his own flinch, breaking bones was no fun.

Then she was taking the weeping Longbottom with her and leaving forty eleven year olds alone with flying brooms.

Almost as soon as she was out of sight Malfoy opened his big mouth. He honestly didn't think he would ever meet someone he disliked quite as much as Dudley but Malfoy was quicklyfinding himself competing with his over-sized cousin.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" He drawled laughing.

The Slytherin's closest to him burst out laughing and Harry watched as the Gryffindors reacted. All had frowns while others began to bristle at the slight against their housemate.

"Shut up." Snapped the Gryffindor Patil twin, with Lavender Brown at her shoulder

"Oh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Said Parkinson, with a smirk growing across her face. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

Harry watched with crossed arms as the Indian girl blushed. Her magic rippled with the embarrassment while most of the Gryffindor's around her seemed to puff up in indignation.

"Look!" Malfoy darted forwards and snatched something off the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The gold and glass sphere glittered in the sunlight as Malfoy held it up for everyone to see. Harry had watched Malfoy try to take it from Longbottom that morning before McGonagall had intervened from across the room. He didn't know what it did but it was probably really expensive or really rare for Malfoy to give a crap about it.

"Hey! That's not yours." The Weasley boy piped up and the Gryffindors parted slightly so he could step forwards to stand in front of their group. "Give it here. I'll give it to him."

"I can see this ending well, don't you?" He murmured to Nott next to him.

"Are you sure you would? It's worth quite a lot; you could feed you family for years." Malfoy smiled nastily and Weasley went bright red. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect- How about... Up a tree."

"Give it here!" Weasley made a move to snatch the orb from Malfoy's hand but the blonde jumped on his broom and took off into the air.

He flew quite smoothly for all Harry could tell. It was obvious it wasn't his first time on a broom. Malfoy came to a stop and hovered about fifthteen foot in the air above them.

"Come and get it, Weasley!" He shouted back down, holding out the ball so they could see it as it reflected the light.

The sound of "Stop, you'll get Gryffindor in trouble!" pulled his attention back to the ground in time to see Weasley swing a leg over his own broom and kicked off into the sky after Malfoy. Granger cried indignantly behind him. The Gryffindor didn't fly quite as well as the Malfoy heir but he didn't fall off either.

Weasley circled Malfoy when he reached him and it looked like he was demanding Longbottom's ball back. The two of them argued mid-air for a moment before Malfoy brought his hand back and threw the glass orb with all his might. For a brief moment, Harry thought the Weasley boy would follow the orb and rescue his housemates property. Instead the boy launched himself at Malfoy and attempted to fight him without loosing his seat on his broom.

Harry's eyes watched the ball as it arced through the air and saw that it was about to smash against the wall of the school. A quick glance at his classmates told him that everyone's attention was on the fight still happening above them. Malfoy attempted to steer his own broom to the ground while forcing Weasley to fall off his own.

He found the near transparent ball again and just as it was about the break into a thousand pieces, he reached out with his magic and grabbed in. It hovered in mid air for a moment and Harry took a breath as he lowered it to the ground and through the air towards him. He'd practiced moving things through the air for years but never something so far away. As it got closer he held his pocket open and made the ball hop in.

Turning back, he was in time to see Malfoy and Weasley careening into the ground in a heap, snapping one of the brooms and a few bones. Professor McGonagall came running out of the building seconds later and waved her wand and conjured two stretchers and levitated the groaning boys on to them.

"That was certainly entertaining." Nott whispered to him sardonically and Harry had to snort.

He and Nott made there way to the common room to grab their bags so they were ready for their class after lunch. When the two of them were alone in the dorm room, Harry casually pulled out the glass orb.

"Do you mind if we stop by the hospital wing?" He rolled the ball between his fingers.

"Why? To laugh at Mal-" He paused as he turned and saw what Harry had in his hand. "How?"

"I thought we'd return it to Longbottom."

Nott narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Harry paused and looked at the white smoke billowing about in the glass orb.

"He's isolated... And rather good at Herbology." He shrugged and raised his eyebrows making himself look more innocent. "Maybe he needs a friend."

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There was another reason he was going to the infirmary. Longbottom wasn't popular or particularly good in their classes. In fact he probably would have sunk into the background if not of his consistent, sometimes explosive, mistakes. Nott had said that as far as he could tell Longbottom had never set foot into society, or likely out of his manor before coming to Hogwarts so he didn't have the connections that other Pureblood children had.

But he was supposedly good at Herbology. Harry hadn't seen it himself because they shared that class with the Ravenclaws but the Hogwarts Gossip Network worked non-stop and talked about everything. Plus he was a Pureblood heir with a seat or two on the Wizengamot when he came of age. But most importantly, he was also quite powerful when compared to their classmates, something only Harry could see. Why he wasn't preforming was a bit of a mystery as Harry could see his magic swirling under the surface.

Harry thought he was worth a poke at the very least.

He led Nott to the hospital wing and by then, Nott didn't even bat an eyelid at Harry's familiarity with the building. It was on the third floor not far from the Grand staircase, Harry assumed it was so the injured could be moved more easily from any part of the school. The two of them paused when they reached the double doors.

Harry poked his head around one of the doors. There were about fourteen beds lined against each wall but there was room for more if it became necessary. A door at the far end no doubt led to Madam Pomphrey's office and one or two private rooms that rarely got any use. On the walls were large portraits of healers and their patients.

Malfoy and Weasley were in beds about halfway up the door on either side of the room. The Healer had obviously treated the two of them already as they were both fast asleep and probably mildly drugged. Longbottom however was at the other end of the room, away from the other two and sitting up in his bed.

Madam Pomphrey bustled towards him so he straightened and took a further step into the room. Nott followed, standing in the doorway.

"Neither of you are injured, I hope?" She asked in a clipped but quite tone.

"No, Ma'am. We came to check on Longbottom before our next lesson. We won't be long Ma'am." He assured her.

She pursed her lips before she nodded. "Keep the noise down so as not to disturb my other patients."

"Of course. Thank you, Ma'am"

Longbottom's eyes grew wide as the two of them approached his bed. He had a soft face, baby fat still rounding his cheeks. Blonde hair sat on his head maybe a shade or two darker than Dudley's.

"Potter." He introduced himself, holding out a hand for the boy to shake as he made it round the side of his bed.

"L...Longbottom." He answered as he shook the offered hand.

He had a weak grip, hesitant. Longbottom blinked at the two of them as if he wasn't sure if they might attack him or not.

"Nott." He stood at the end of the bed and nodded to Longbottom as he watched him with a somewhat disinterested look.

Harry kicked the chair next to the boy's bed away slightly so as not the crowd the boy before he sat in it. He slouched back in the chair and spread his legs in a relaxed pose.

"So when are you getting out of here?" He asked, watching the boy through half-lidded eyes.

"Just b...b...before dinner." Longbottom's hands were clasped in his lap nervously.

Harry nodded. "No serious damage then. That's good."

"Yes." Longbottom agreed, his eyes flicking over to Nott.

He seemed to take his cue from Harry and had adopted a slightly slouched position and wasn't even looking in Longbottom's direction. Instead he was idly taking in the details of the far end of the infirmary. Harry decided to let the silence hang between them, waiting to see what Longbottom would do.

It took a minute or two, in which Longbottom got more and more fidgety

"What are you doing here?" He eventually asked.

Harry casually reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out what Nott had told him was a Remembrall. The white smoke was supposed to turn red when you forgot something. Harry had asked 'something' like what? No one remembered everything. Nott had just shrugged.

"We came to return this. It must have fallen out of your pocket." He held it out for the other boy to take.

Longbottom reached out hesitantly, ready for Harry to snatch it back. But he didn't.

"Thanks." He looked down at orb in his hand. "Ron said Malfoy threw it. That it had smashed."

"Well," Harry shrugged. "I caught it. Maybe don't tell anyone it was me who gave it back to you, you know."

Longbottom nodded and from the look on his face he did actually know. Or at least could tell that it could cause alot of trouble. He wasn't stupid. He just wasn't very confident.

Harry stood up. "I'll see you around Longbottom."

"Yeah. Yeah, see you, Potter. Nott."

When they were outside Nott finally spoke. "What was that about?"

Harry shrugged.

"I was socialising." He smirked.

Nott rolled his eyes but didn't ask again.

"Do you think Malfoy will find out it was you who returned Longbottom's Remembrall?" He did ask shortly before they arrived to their afternoon lesson.

"We'll see, won't we."


	10. Bonds Forged

By dinnertime everyone knew what had happened that morning. Both boys had lost their House's fifty points and neither the Gryffindors nor the Slytherins were happy about it. Although Longbottom joined the Gryffindors at dinner, Malfoy and Weasley weren't seen until the following morning at Breakfast. While Weasley looked positively dejected isolated at the end of the table, Malfoy seemed to take everyone's annoyed looks and hate-filled glares as a personal offense.

He strutted to the Slytherin table with his usual bookends on either side of him and sat in his usual spot with the other first years. Parkinson only nodded in greeting and it was a shallow one at that. Not that that stopped everyone at the table noticing she had done so.

When Harry and Nott had finished their breakfast they both got up to make there way to Potions. Moments after Zabini and Greengrass followed them out. No one spoke until the four had left the Great Hall and were almost at the entrance to the dungeons.

"Malfoy really doesn't know when to keep his head down, does he?" Zabini asked in an almost exasperated manner.

"It doesn't seem so, no." Answered Nott.

He had a relaxed manner in his shoulders and voice but Harry could detect an overall cautiousness. The most obvious was the fact that he hadn't let the pair walk behind them and had instead spread further from Harry so they could walk almost next to each other. Harry didn't like people behind him either but Nott wasn't usually as paranoid as Harry.

"How long do you think it will take to earn the points back?" Zabini glanced at Greengrass as he asked but the ice princess only pursed her lips.

"Probably not too long if Professor Snape has anything to say about it." Harry had seen the hourglasses that morning and Slytherin was behind the other two house by quite a lot and only marginally ahead of Gryffindor.

The three boys spoke briefly about their up coming lesson while Greengrass looked on with only the occasional clipped remark. Before long the other students had joined them to wait outside the classroom. Harry didn't hear the beginnings of the conversation but he did hear Weasley's exclamation.

"It's all your fault anyway!" He shouted.

Harry turned to see that Weasley, with Finnigan, Thomas and Granger at his back, had strayed into the vicinity of Malfoy and his goons.

"My fault? I didn't tell you to get on one of the school's rickety old brooms. Or to launch yourself at me mid-air." Malfoy sneered at the red-head. "It was just like a Gryffindor though, barely half a brain between the lot of you."

"Better a Gryffindor than a slimy snake!" Weasley shouted.

Harry sighed and took a step forwards. "Why don't we all calm down before we lose even more points and someone ends up in the infirmary again."

He'd tried to say it neutrally and he thought he succeeded except that Weasley's face grew a bright red colour that clashed horribly with his hair.

"No body asked what you think, Traitor!" He spat, his fists clenched at his sides.

Harry frowned. The word had hit his chest as though it were a physical thing.

"And whom, pray tell, am I supposed to have betrayed?" There was an edge of ice to his voice that he hadn't meant to put there.

Weasley spluttered as though it was obvious. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived! You were supposed to be a Gryffindor and now you've gone and joined the other side."

There was a silence that followed that statement. While Finnigan was nodding in agreement and Thomas and Granger were looking dubious, everyone else seemed to watch on with bated breath to see his reaction.

"Joined the other side?" He repeated coldly. "Are you suggesting I would follow the man who killed my parents? Because if you are, you are clearly an imbecile."

It was then that Weasley went for his wand. Like most of their year mates, Weasley kept his wand in his pocket. Harry had wondered at the seeming lack of wand safety. A wizard's wand was as much a weapon as it was a tool and Harry thought it foolish and dangerous to keep a wand in your pocket. It also made the other boy much slower on the draw. By the time Weasley even had his wand in hand, Harry had shifted his step, ready to move at a moments notice and his own wand was pointed at Weasley's chest.

"You don't want to duel me, Weasley. Especially not here." His voice was calm and even.

Finnigan had pulled his wand and from the slight flare of magic at his shoulder, Nott was armed and ready as well. It was a good feeling to have someone stand up with him. Granger was murmuring to herself about them getting into trouble.

"If not here, how about a Wizards duel? Midnight in the trophy room." Suggested Malfoy in an almost relaxed drawl.

It was something in his tone that tipped Harry off. He let his eyes shift momentarily to take the Malfoy heir in. While before he had been posturing as much as Weasley, now his demeanour was subtly confident, almost cocky. He looked like a much slimmer Dudley when he thought he had a plan to get Harry in trouble.

"Fine! Seamus will be my second. We'll show you, you filthy snake." Weasley agreed, puffing out his chest.

Harry snorted. "I'm not sneaking out after curfew for this."

He hadn't relaxed his wand arm, but Weasley's arm had drooped slightly. He brought it up again quickly but Harry didn't flinch, he couldn't feel or see an uptake in the boy's magic even if it did whirl around in reaction to his turbulent emotion.

"Coward." The other boy pushed through clenched teeth.

Harry sneered at him. "I am no coward. I just have nothing to gain by breaking curfew and beating the snot out of you... Except maybe detention."

"You're-" Weasley went to carry on but was interrupted by the classroom door swinging open and the intimidating Professor Snape peered down at them all.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley. No duelling in the corridors." He snapped as he took a step towards them.

Harry's wand had disappeared back up his sleeve but he hadn't relaxed his stance or took his eyes of off the red-head until he had put his wand away as well.

"They started it!" He pointed at Harry and Malfoy.

"No they didn't." Granger huffed, hands on her hips as she glared at her house mate.

After sneering at them all, their Professor turned on his heel and strode back into his classroom with a dramatic flare of his robes.

"In!" He barked over his shoulder and everyone was quick to file in behind him.

Harry and Nott took their usual seats at the back of the classroom and soon the lesson was underway. Slytherin had earned back twenty five points by the end of the lesson but none of them were by Malfoy. He thought Snape was trying to teach Malfoy a subtle lesson but was sure that he would be back to being the star pupil by their next lesson. Harry and Nott's potion was perfect as far as Harry could tell; it was obvious Nott had read the basic potions book he had lent him.

Weasley kept giving him sour looks but Harry brushed them off for now. There was little the Gryffindor could do to him at the moment but he vowed to keep an eye on the boy and what he was saying about Harry. Harry had been keeping as much of an ear out as he could, listening to conversations in the common room, Great Hall and the library. Most seemed to still be somewhat in awe of him but others had definitely become more hostile, fearful or suspicious since his sorting. If general opinion began to shift because of bullshit spouted by Weasley, Harry wanted to know.

Harry and Nott enjoyed lunch before heading back to the common room to finish their homework so they could use the entire weekend to dedicate to Arithmancy. After retrieving the appropriate texts and writing implements, they settled down at one of the small tables in the smallish library section. They had been told that first and second years weren't allowed to read anything above the third shelf. The higher the books went the more magic that clung to them, although not all of it was as insidious as people outside Slytherin would have others believe. And nothing, as far as Harry's senses could tell, was truly evil.

Harry was about three quarters through his potions essay when Malfoy sauntered into the room. There wasn't a door between the library section and the main common room, just a wide archway. Through it Harry could see some of the older student's eyes follow the Malfoy Heir.

Nott had mentioned that the first years of Slytherin were sort of off limits. The idea being that by the time you were in second year with a full year of magical education under your belt, you should be good enough to look out for yourself. The older years wouldn't challenge a firstie to a duel or hit them with high powered or particularly complex spell work. That didn't stop sneaky low level hexes and jinxes, like the tripping jinx he had narrowly avoided walking across the common room two days before.

Malfoy had the added security of a rich, pureblood and very much alive father. Lord Malfoy was a powerful man many families were hesitant to cross. It was probably the only reason he wasn't covered in boils after his loss of points so early in the year.

Harry sensed the subtle change in the near silence of the room when Malfoy stopped next to his table, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"So, are you a coward like Weasley says?" He goaded, speaking in a minutely elevated tone, preforming for his audience.

Harry didn't look up from his essay right away. He finished his sentence at a measured pace before turning his gaze to the blonde standing above him. He leaned back in his chair slightly, shifting it so he could stand if he had to, adopting a relaxed pose without actually relaxing.

"Of course not, Malfoy. I just saw right through your deception." He spoke in his natural register aware that everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to listen.

"Deception?"

"Yes, you're plan was to have me go off to duel Weasley and then you would tip off a teacher, probably Filch, that there would be students in the trophy room after hours." He allowed himself to smirk. "I would have surely gotten caught and you would have deflected attention from you're own recent points loss."

"You think you're so clever." Malfoy spat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, I told Weasley that you'd changed your mind."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well done. You successfully duped Weasley." He congratulated sarcastically.

"You would have lost anyway!" Colour rose in the pale boys cheeks and Harry began to realise that Malfoy was spoiling for a fight.

He paused for a moment as he considered what to do. He couldn't back down from Malfoy. That would imply submission to the spoilt pre-teen. While that had sometimes been necessary under Vernon and Dudley's superior physical strength, Malfoy was in no way stronger than Harry magically. Maybe the Malfoy heir knew spells Harry didn't know but Tom's memories would fill in for him.

He had to fight the oncoming battle now, and he had to win.

"I disarmed you, didn't I?" He said, referring to their first night there.

Malfoy's hand went for his wand, Crabbe and Goyle reached for theirs aswell. Harry stood, knocking his chair out of his way and helping it along with some subtle wandless magic, so as not to trip himself over. His own wand was in his hand and the familiar warm tingle of his magic seemed to run through his whole body in preparation and anticipation of the fight to come.

Harry fired first, throwing a boils hex at Goyle's face as the boy was about to cast. Malfoy fired a jelly-leg jinx followed closely by a stinging hex, both at Harry's chest. Nott had stood and fired his own spell, one Harry didn't recognise, at Crabbe that caused the boy to double over and drop his wand. Goyle cried out as boils began bursting forth across his face and down his neck. Harry used reflexus, a weak shield but the strongest he could manage, on the jelly-legs and let the stinging hex hit him in the chest to aim a Langlock at Malfoy's head. He hadn't tried the spell before but he had read about it only two days earlier.

With his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Malfoy found himself unable to cast anything. His cheeks went bright red when he realised and made a hasty retreat. Harry sheathed his wand and ran a hand down his silver and green tie to make sure it was straight.

"I don't think anyone expected you to just take the stinging hex." Nott said beside him, straightening his own clothes.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really hurt and it was worth taking the opening it created."

Harry had known from the beginning that he would have to watch his back when it came to Malfoy. He had a half-way respectable, old, pureblood name and the expectation that he was going to rule their house. Rule Harry. But Malfoy hadn't done anything to gain Harry's respect or love and Harry most certainly didn't fear him. In a nutshell, he wasn't going to submit to the spoilt princeling.

The two of them sat back down and carried on with their homework but they were both aware of the eyes on them. Harry thought, if at all possible, there would be more eyes than usual.

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Professor Severus Snape, youngest Potions Master in a centuary, had a mild headache slowly growing in intensity behind his eyes. It had begun shortly after lunch but he hadn't thought it too bad until Mr Higgins, a third year Hufflepuff, had caused the explosion of not only his own cauldron but this neighbours cauldrons on either side. The little menace was lucky that the Potion they had been working on was not toxic.

He threw back a mild analgesic potion and felt the pain shrink down until it disappeared completely. While he would have liked to eat his dinner, shut himself in his rooms and have a stiff drink, he had a meeting to attend.

It wasn't the worst kind of meeting he had been forced to show his face at. Death Eater meetings when he had been a spy, and before that if he was honesty with himself, had been a combination of bone-deep fear and an almost hysterical certainty that any moment would be his last, feelings only barely supressed even with his world class occlumency. The meeting he would be attending that night was one of dull repetition, extraneous information and mind-numbing boredom. It was sure to bring his headache back.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts called the meeting every year, two weeks after class began, with one or two follow up meeting throughout the year. After greetings and chit-chat had finally quietened down, it would begin with a brief conversation about how all the returning students were settling in. Then each of the Heads of House went round discussing the first years; who needed watching, who struggled with the material, who was suffering from bouts of homesickness and other such drivel. The other staff would add what they had seen in there own lessons.

He had never liked talking about his Slytherin's personal matters with the other teachers. Sinistra was the only other member of staff who had been in the House of snakes but with all of her lessons taking place at night, she tended to be nocturnal, eating dinner at breakfast, breakfast at dinner and presumably the House Elves made her a lunch that she took on her own as the rest of the castle slept. Everyone else, no matter how much they might deny it, were prejudiced against his little snakes.

And, of course, there would be one snake that everyone would be taking an interest in particular. He still wasn't entirely sure how the Boy-Who-Lived had ended up as one of his Slytherins. He hadn't investigated the issue and he wouldn't. The boy didn't need anymore attention than what he was receiving anyway. He refused to fuss and pander to the brat.

When he arrived, Snape slipped into the seat next to Quirrell. The Ex-Muggle studies Professor had returned from his sabbatical and it had become obvious that the man had befallen something foul; though he doubted it had been vampires. Quirrell was paler, thinner than he had been when he left and while that might be put down to a fright, the turban and the fake stutter and all the garlic, it was too much. He had been told to keep his distance and observe by the Headmaster when he had presented the problem.

So observe he did. The man fidgeted as the other staff filed into the room and shuffled about. Dumbledore eventually entered the room and took his place at the head of the table with McGonagall not far behind.

"Welcome, welcome." The Headmaster began. "Lets begin shall we. How is everyone settling back in to a new school year? Minerva?"

"The Weasley twins have been up to their usual nonsense. I'm sure it was them who supplied Peeves with those dungbombs he used in the charms corridor last week. But everyone seems to be settling back in nicely." She informed them.

Albus nodded along with a twinkle in his eye. He often enjoyed listening to the antics of the red-headed pair. He and Minerva often compared the present troublemakers to another set from his own youth. Severus was forced to disagree. While he wasn't a fan of juvenile pranks of any kind, he could admit it was very rarely that the Weasley twins crossed the line. The 'Marauders' had been bullies and it was only favouritism that allowed them to go as far as they did. Severus had kept an eye on the Weasley twins and if he got so much of a whiff of bullying he was going to have them in so much detention, the pair wouldn't know what hit them. No matter what the other staff might say.

Pomona then went on to talk about her Hufflepuffs in much greater detail than Minerva ever did with her Gryffindors. One of the fifth year's grandfathers had just died and a second had a new little brother he was finding quite distressing. There were other inanities as well but he decided that the others weren't worth remembering.

Filius mentioned a few of his house that had handed over to him some independent study projects they had conducted over the summer. When he finished, Dumbledore looked over to him.

"My House is settling in adequately." Which was the same laconic response he gave every year.

"We'll move on to the first years then."

Minerva talked about Longbottom's shyness, Granger's over-long essays and the youngest Weasley boys inability to even try to do his work. Filius went on about what an excellent batch he had this year, all sharp young minds. Pomona compared Susan Bones to her Mother and Aunt, who had both been Hufflepuffs themselves. The others nodded as each spoke having seen the same in their classes too.

Then they turned to Severus.

He sighed.

"The first years are also settling in." He, at least, had had no reports of homesickness; that kind of thing he usually left to the prefects.

Minerva pinched her lips at his laconic response and the others made general noises of disapproval, to which he rolled his eyes.

"I've had reports of Mr Malfoy and his friends calling other students names." She added as Pomona nodded along.

"We'll all keep an eye out for improper behaviour." Dumbledore cut through, obviously not wanting to hear about Mr Malfoy at that moment. "I have seen Mr Potter in the company of Mr Nott. How is he finding it, fitting into Slytherin House?"

The Headmaster looked over his half-moon spectacles at Severus making it clear who he wanted to respond. The others went silent and peered down the table to stare as well.

He had noticed this as well. The pair sat together at the back of his class and he had spotted them studying in the library together.

"I'm sure Mr Potter is fitting in just fine."

"He's found himself a friend at least." Pomona put in. "Those two always stand next to each other in my class. I was quite worried about Mr Potter after the sorting."

"I would like you to keep an eye on him for us, Severus." Dumbledore ordered before moving the conversation along.

As if he wasn't doing so already, he thought to himself.

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At Breakfast the next morning, Nott received a package. Harry watched as the other boy put the box to one side as he finished his food without opening it. Once they were both finished, Nott grabbed his box and caught Harry's eye. They went back to the common room and up into the dorms.

"These are the books I asked father for." Nott told him over his shoulder as he put the box down on his bed.

Harry stood at his side, watching as Nott finite'd the box and it grew in size. It was only then that Nott opened the box. Inside was at least a dozen books.

"When you said 'a few', I thought you meant three or four." He commented as Nott began unpacking the books on to his bed.

"I thought you'd want the basics. And well," He paused and gave Harry a particularly piercing look. "you wouldn't be able to find all of these in Hogwarts."

Harry rose an eyebrow at that but Nott had turned back to his books. He picked up the book Nott had left closest to him. It had a similar feel to it as some of the books stored higher up in the Slytherin library. It began with some detection spells. Mostly they detected curses and the like but some had the ability to detect common poisons.

He flicked thought the pages, skim reading. It wasn't until about a quarter of the way through the book that he realised what Nott had been getting at. Because the content moved on from detecting curses and on to casting curses. Ones that you put on objects and waited for your victims to use them. Some of the first ones were things one might find in the NEWT level defence textbooks but most were not. They were things likely to maim and kill.

Harry paused to read through a description of a particularly nasty curse that slowly liquefied a persons bones. It's counter-curse was obscenely complicated and had to be cast on the victim within ten minutes.

There was no question. The spells, and therefore probably the book too, was illegal. Harry didn't know how much trouble him and Nott might be in for reading it but he knew it would likely be quite a bit. Nott was taking a risk showing them to him. Probably a very purposeful risk.

He put the book down and picked up another to skim through. It was a history book that seemed covered pieces of Wizarding history he hadn't come across in his own research such as the Rise and Reign of Light Lord Dimbbus Wimbley. He'd noticed how prejudice the Wizarding world was but he hadn't realised that they had re-written their own history.

He looked over the edge of the book to meet Nott's eyes. The other boy had been surreptitiously watching his reactions.

"Thank-you, Nott. I'm sure these will be very useful." Harry said before looking back at the book in his hands.

"Theo." Nott corrected.

Harry paused for a minute before nodding and inviting Theo to use his first name too. "Harry."

"I've been thinking, we should begin those meditation techniques this weekend and maybe set an hour or two aside every other day or so. What do you think?" Nott suggested after they had packed Nott's books away in his trunk leaving three out for Harry to read.

Harry knew he was speaking about the Occlumency lessons that they had spoke about earlier in term. He had wondered if Nott had forgotten about their deal. But it seemed he had just been waiting till he could test Harry. Make sure he wasn't rule following automaton.

Harry nodded.

"Good." Nott picked up a palm sized book that he hadn't put in his trunk. "This describes all the different secrecy oaths we could take."

They spent half an hour sitting on Nott's bed, reading through the yellowing pages, trying to find an oath that was strict enough without being too over the top. As much as he didn't want Nott telling anyone what he might see in the other's head, he thought an oath that resulted in death once broken was a bit too serious for two eleven year olds.

In the end they settled for one that caused a tongue-tying curse that could only be broken by the other party. It would also stop them relaying the information in another medium like the written word by making every thing come out as gibberish. It seemed the most fool proof of the lower-level oaths.

They were interrupted once by Zabini, who gave them a mildly interested look when he saw them both sitting on Nott's bed. The book they were reading didn't have a visible title so the other boy couldn't have known what they were reading about but, Harry supposed, it was a bit suspicious that the two of them were reading it in their dorm and not the common room or library. Still, they were Slytherins so Zabini didn't say anything.

Once they had agreed on the exact wording, the two boys pulled out their wands and began their oath. As they finished with a simultaneous 'so mote it be' Harry felt the magic run though him and settle into his core, making him shiver.

Looking into the face of the boy across from him, Harry wondered if he had made a friend instead of just an ally.


	11. All Hallow's Eve

**I know this was a long time coming but I've edited it, re-edited it, re-written whole parts and edited it again wanting it to be perfect. Halloween was another of the scenes that inspired this fic. Enjoyxx**

 **P.S comments fuel me :P**

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A weeks worth of classes passed him by. Harry and Nott found an empty classroom not too far from the dungeons for them to practise Occlumency in. Mostly it was guided meditation, but Nott seemed to be able to hold the state of mind for longer and longer each session.

Zabini and Greengrass had started to join them in the common room on Wednesdays to practise the transfiguration spells they were still working on and to write up their essays. Heiress Greengrass was very proper and she got a dangerous glint in her eye when she thought for even a moment that someone might think her less capable because she was female.

Harry was of the opinion that women could be more dangerous than men. Uncle Vernon and Dudley tended to be more straight forwards. Violence was their weapon. The anger rose inside of them, they took it out on Harry and then it was over. A predictable ebb and flow of emotion and immediate consequence. Aunt Petunia was different.

She nursed her grudges. Letting her anger out seemingly at random, fast and vicious. She would be the one to pinch him when they were out in public, to claw her nails into his arms when she pulled him somewhere, to give him a sharp humiliating slap around the face. When he was younger she would scrub his skin with a wire brush once a week in the bath until he was old enough to wash himself. She was the one that spread rumours about him to the neighbourhood, so that everyone was against him, so that everyone always thought he was up to no good. Which sometime he was and it made it all the more difficult to steal food so he didn't starve to death. He could withstand a beating easily but Petunia's punishments were always cruel and unusual.

Harry supposed he had learnt more from Petunia than from Vernon.

Zabini chatted to him and Nott sometimes when they were in their dorm. It was all small talk but Harry knew he was being felt out. He could appreciate Zabini's cool manner, most of the time he looked either bored or disinterested. He had a sort of casual-charming slouch about him that was too perfect not to have been studied.

He'd also finally began taking his morning run. He had worked himself up to three full meals a day and was starting to put on some much needed weight. He'd convinced Nott to come with him and although the other boy couldn't run for as long as Harry could, Nott had agreed that a wizard probably shouldn't rely on his magic alone. Harry thought that once Nott could keep up better the two of them could add some dodging exercises. There were some spells that you just couldn't shield and it would be a long time till they were strong enough to cast a powerful shield to protect themselves from higher level spells.

They still found themselves showered and dressed before the other boys were pulling themselves from their covers. The two of them walked into the Great Hall that morning discussing the potions essay they were going to hand in after breakfast. Harry had only just finished dishing up a plate of sausage, bacon and beans and was reaching for a slice of toast when a snowy white owl landed next to him.

Harry stared at the owl with a momentary shock. The sudden silence of those sitting around him told him that everyone had noticed that he didn't get post. Conversation took up again as he reached to untie the roll of parchment attached to the bird's extended foot. He didn't think for a second that the rest of the table wasn't now watching his every move.

"Who's it from?" Nott asked beside him.

Harry scowled at the messy hand as he attempted to decipher it.

"It's from the Gamekeeper. He's inviting me to have tea with him after lunch." As he got to the end he felt his eyebrows rise and he looked at the owl still perched beside him. "And he's giving me this owl."

"Didn't know you were so friendly with the Gamekeeper, Potter?" Greengrass said with once delicately raised eyebrow.

Harry snorted. "I'm not. Dumbledore sent him to escort me to Diagon Alley when my relatives couldn't take me. As soon as we got there, I convinced him to get a drink so I could shop in peace. I barely spoke to him. Supposedly, he knew my parents and wants to talk about them." He shrugged. "He's been working here so long, I'm sure he knows everyone's parents."

The owl pecked at his hand. He narrowed his slightly at it. "What am I supposed to do with an owl?"

"You send mail with it Potter." Malfoy sneered down the table. "If you have anyone to send letters to."

"Yes, how clever of you, Malfoy." He answered back without missing a beat. "Why don't you inform Crabbe and Goyle? I'm sure they will wish to know of your extraordinary discovery."

He barely batted an eyelash in the blonde direction, while people sniggered around him, still pondering the owl. To his friends he continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"My Aunt won't tolerate a bird in the house. It's why I didn't bother getting myself one. I can use one of the school owls if I'm in need." Not that he would ever send a letter to the Dursleys.

"She can stay in Nott Manor for the summer if you want? We've got a small owlery." Nott offered after swallowing a mouthful of breakfast.

Harry hummed noncommittedly. "Alright. I have no letters right now. I'll name you later. Go on." He shooed the bird and it took off flying away with the other departing owls.

"Are you going to go meet the Groundskeeper? I've heard his hut is full of dangerous beasts." Nott asked cutting up a sausage.

Harry took a careful bite of his toast and pondered as he chewed. Nott didn't push and the two of them were soon making their way to Potions.

"I think it would be prudent to see what Dumbledore wants." He murmured to the other boy.

He watched Theo out of the corner of his eye as he turned to regard Harry. His face grew slightly pinched around his eyebrows, then he nodded.

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As Nott handed in another of their perfect potions to Professor Snape, Harry made swift but careful movements to clean and pack away their equipment. By the time Nott was back at their bench, he only had to put a few of his things away before they were slipping out the door ahead of their classmates. Once they were out of the out of the castle and heading down the hill to the only hut on the grounds, they broke into a run. Neither wanted to advertise their visit to the Groundskeeper if they could help it.

The hut sat quite close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was the closest Harry had gotten to the forest and closer as he was, he could see the very air in between the trees ebbing with magic. It was a dense, thick kind of magic, somewhat similar to the environ of the Greenhouse that their Herbology classes were held in but different. Older, stronger, darker.

He could sense the tension running through Nott, no matter that the boy tried to hide it. Harry was apprehensive as well. While it was extremely unlikely, from what Harry had seen, that he would attempt to hurt them; Hagrid was a huge man. When he opened the door, Harry and Nott barely came up to his waste.

The man was easy to read, each emotion and thought plastered across his face. He was a bit taken back that Harry hadn't come alone, which put the two of them slightly on edge but they kept their polite Slytherin masks as they were invited inside and replied easily when asked about how their classes were going.

Harry had immediately noted the four small, high windows, not easily accessible, and the three doors, one leading to a bathroom, one the one they came in through and the last exiting on to the steadily growing pumpkin patch that would be ripe from harvest by Halloween. The room's over-large furniture and cluttered interior gave it a rather claustrophobic feel to it, but most of the miscellaneous objects were hanging off of hooks in the ceiling or piled on to high shelves that covered almost ever wall. Nothing Harry deemed a tripping hazard in the event of a hasty get-away.

A get-away that seemed completely unnecessary until a newspaper that had sat on the table caught his eye. He'd ignored it until that point because Zabini read the newspaper that morning and had informed Nott and himself about the interesting articles before the owl had appeared. But then he read the date on the top of the print. The newspaper was almost three weeks old and yet it sat pristine on Hagrid's table. The front page was a story he had already heard a thousand times over.

However the story in front of him gave Harry two new pieces of information that the gossip mill had left out. The day Gringotts had been broken into was the same day Harry had first visited Diagon Alley with Hagrid. And not only was he there but he had gone down to the very vault that someone had attempted to rob. The small brown package Hagrid had picked up for Dumbledore, 'Hogwart's business, very important.'

Interrupting Hagrid, Harry drew attention to the article.

"That's the day we were there, Hagrid." Harry watched as the man stilled as his eyes twitched from side to side as though expecting someone to pop out of the woodwork.

His reaction had caught Nott's attention and the other boy gave Hagrid an intense once over.

"Puhh, nothing to worry yourselves over." Hagrid snatched up the newspaper and Harry put everything he had into not flinching away from the massive man.

The boys shared a subtle look before Harry changed the subject by asking about the flora and fauna of the Forbidden forest. Once they had assured him that they were most definitely not going into the forest themselves and were merely curious, the man was happy for tell them about his many forays into the haunting trees.

The two of them missed lunch but they headed back just before dinner. As they were walking back up the hill Nott casually inquired, "Gringotts?"

"What was that newspaper doing there? It was three weeks old." He asked back allowing the edge he had been supressing when in Hagrid's hut, back into his voice.

Nott thought for a moment before answering. "It was left there for us to notice. Dumbledore probably visited the oaf early this morning, suggesting he invite you for tea."

They both silently agreed that the Groundskeeper himself wasn't smart enough to plot. He pondered a moment about his deep distrust for Dumbledore. It could only be Riddles memories, as the boy had distrusted Dumbledore as much as Dumbledore seemed to distrust Tom. But then again Nott and all his housemates had shown an equal amount of wariness and dislike about the old man.

"What do you know about him?" Harry asked keeping his eyes ahead focused on the castle rapidly nearing.

"Supposed to be a prodigy when he was at school, a Gryffindor obviously. Not sure what he did till he became Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts. But he's always been political. Father said he stayed out of the war with Grindelward right until the end when they had their famous duel. Then when the last war was in full swing it was him that kept up the resistance mostly. The Ministry was in disarray and half turned against itself."

As Nott spoke Harry nodded. The Headmaster was a powerful figure in the wizarding world as a whole. He'd heard people talk about him as though he were a living legend.

"And of course, he's the one that's been assuring the nation of your safety all these years. The ministry wanted to take custody of you back then but by the time anyone asked about the Boy-Who-Had-Saved-Them-All you'd already been spirited away somewhere." Nott's nose scrunched slightly along with his sarcastic tone. "That's why most people think you've been living in some manor somewhere, possibly on the continent."

Harry couldn't help the snort of disgust.

"Instead I've been living in obscurity in the muggle world with no knowledge of my heritage." He'd thought himself a freak, an aberration, alone.

"You didn't know about magic at all, did you?" Nott questioned, the two of them slowing their pace as they approached the main doors.

Harry shook his head. "They told me my parents were drunks, who died in a car accident. That they found me on the door step the next day..." He frowned. "Do you think that bits true because I always thought it was weird? Who leaves a baby on the front step in the middle of the night?"

Nott shrugged and Harry shook of the question for another time.

"The real question is why does Dumbledore want me to know about what ever someone's trying to steal from him?"

Again Nott shrugged. Harry didn't have any explanations either so he would just have to keep his eyes open.

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September turned into October and everyone was settled as the weather began to get colder. Classes were much the same as before, although they were beginning to move on to slightly more complicated material. Harry, Theo, Zabini and Greengrass had fallen into a comfortable routine and Harry had begun to regard the other two as tentative allies as they spent more time together talking and studying.

Harry had always hated Halloween. He used to watch Dudley brag about his costume to all who would listen. Aunt Petunia would take him out while Harry was locked in his cupboard and Dudley would come back with so many sweets he was usually sick by the end of the night. And Harry would have to clean it up while his Aunt dotted on the great lump, putting a cool flannel on his head.

As far as Harry could tell it was a holiday celebrating greed and excess.

Now he knew it was the anniversary of his parents death, he wanted to celebrate even less. So he didn't go with Nott down to the Great Hall for the feast. Instead he took the candle and an apple he'd gotten from the house elves and headed for the astronomy tower, as far away as he could get from the raucous laughter echoing through the halls, and celebrated a traditional wizard's Samhain. A remembrance of ones ancestors and family who had passed on beyond the veil.

He had never seen a picture of his parents but he knew his mother had red hair and his green eyes. He knew his father had had glasses and the same sticky-up hair that Harry had before he'd grown it out. So he pictured people like that as he sat cross-legged and, with a little concentration, lit the candle with the tip of his finger instead of his wand, setting the apple as offering beside it. He thought about golden bubbles and his mother's arms.

It was a very basic rite, not the full Samhain ritual he only knew through Tom's memories. Wizards had a religion of there own but it had been practised underground for the last three hundred years. The official reason was that they were Dark but it was really about scaring the muggleborn off with 'paganism'.

He watched the flame dance in the breeze and thought about the parents he didn't know. Would they be disappointed that he was a Slytherin? Would they be proud of him for what he had accomplished in these last months?

It was impossible to tell. They weren't the drunken wastes that his Aunt and Uncle had told him they were. What he had heard from Hagrid and the other teachers were as two dimensional as his relatives tales. They only told him the best of them if they mentioned them at all.

Should he even care? They were dead after all. They weren't here to see him. Or judge him. He didn't usually allow other's thoughts of him to affect him, why should he let some parents that might as well be imaginary dictate his actions now?

He watched the flame dance in the wind, feeling slightly guilty.

Harry remembered his mother begging for his life, offering her own in his stead. He would honour their memory, at least. They had given their lives for his and he would always be grateful to them for that.

After a little while he began to get cold. Even with his thick school-cloak wrapped tight around him, it was still Autumn in Scotland. He left the candle burning where it was and headed back down to the Dungeons. He'd bring a few books into his bed and shut the curtains, warding everyone else out. He wasn't in the mood for company.

He was on the second floor when the smell reached him. Like an open drain and sweaty feet. He wrinkled his nose and sped up slightly in the hopes of passing the stench. As he was passing the girl's bathroom he heard a scream and a loud crash from within. He paused for a moment, deciding whether to pass without at least taking a look.

Hesitantly Harry stuck his head round the door.

Although he'd never seen one before, his new memories helpfully supplied the answer. It was a troll. It stood almost eight feet tall, it's thick skin was a grey-green and lumpy. He also knew trolls had limited to no intelligence and were magically resistant like giants and dragons.

His heartbeat kicked up and began to pound in his ears as he began to run. Then he saw Granger scramble out from under the wooden debris that used to be cubicles.

It was plain to him that the girl would be killed. She hadn't gone for her wand, even if it's use was limited as a first year. He didn't have time to track down a teacher. And if he did and they came back to a puddle of first year, the student body, if not everyone else, would blame him. He was supposed to be some saviour and people were already angry at him being a Slytherin instead of whatever they had assumed he would be.

If she died, he would get the blame.

A strange calm came over him as he made his decision to fight. His brain began going through spells that could be useful, spells he wasn't sure he could pull off but he didn't have a choice and the doubt was only momentary. Still standing in the doorway, Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at the trolls back. He had to distract it from her first of all.

"Reducto!" The spell hit the troll's thick back.

It was his first real test of his magic. He hadn't even had a real duel yet, and the continued spats with Malfoy didn't count. Yet here he was with a troll in front of him and he really might get himself killed!

He fired two more in quick succession. He wanted the troll to follow him into the hall where there was more room for manoeuvrability. His plan seemed to be working as the troll turned to him and seemed to forget all about Granger.

Harry took two steps back, refusing to let his enemy leave his sight for even a moment. It lurched at him and Harry took a few more steps into the hall. It wedged itself back through the door and Harry held off blasting it in the face in case it gave up on him and went back for Granger. As it finally got free and into the corridor, it lifted it's wooden club up over it's head, intent on squashing him.

"Bombarda!" He cried waving his wand in a large circle before throwing the force at the club.

It exploded and Harry turned his face away, protecting his eyes from the splinters with his other hand. The troll's hand had also been damaged and it cried out and began trying to grab him with a renewed urgency, splattering blood along the stone walls. He needed something that could do more damage.

A spell popped into his head. He ducked under the trolls hand and rolled, jumping back to his feet as he'd done to avoid Dudley and his gang many times before. Then he was making a slashing motion, aiming for the trolls almost non-existent neck.

"Sectumsempra!" He hissed putting as much power behind it as he dared without draining himself completely; there was every chance the spell wouldn't work how he wanted.

He wasn't sure the spell would make it through the skin even though in Latin it meant 'always cut'. So he might have put a little more force than was necessary. He had wanted to cut into the carotid artery, where the troll would loose it's blood volume the quickest and limit oxygen to the brain.

The curse did break the skin, but also the muscle if not the bone. The trolls head was thrown back, the open throat spurting gore on to Harry as he stood below. He managed to close his mouth and eyes as he felt the warm liquid splash across his face and sink into his robes. He scrambled away so as not to be crushed by the troll's lifeless body as it fell forward and the head followed loosely behind bouncing at his feet with a squelch.

For a second the head at his feet was all he could look at even as he felt the heated, foul-smelling blood begin to cool across his skin. The bathroom door opened and Harry raised his wand on instinct.

And lowered it when he saw it was only Granger sticking her head out the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in his blood splatter appearance and the near headless corpse laying between them.

Hurried footsteps came into earshot and Harry spun around to see Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell running towards them. They skidded to a halt in front of him, their eyes flicking from him to the body behind him. Quirrell wavered and grasped at the wall as if to keep himself from fainting and began retching.

"Mr Potter!" The head of Gryffindor exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am?" He answered mildly surprised at how even his voice was, but mostly he felt a strange disconnect.

She spluttered but quickly regained her composure.

"What happened here?" She demanded.

Harry kept his eyes on Professor McGonagall not wanting to look at his Head of House who was sure to be furious.

"I was heading back to the common room Ma'am, when I heard a scream from inside the bathroom. I stuck my head in, to see what was happening. The troll had cornered Granger." He tilted his head in her direction and the teachers looked, for the first time realising she was there.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

Harry held back a snort. No one asked if he was alright and he was the one to go against a bloody troll. Well, it was bloody now anyway. He resisted a smirk. Maybe he was a little hysterical.

"Y...Yes, Professor." Granger stuttered moving around the troll. ""I...He saved me."

That made Harry stiffen slightly. It was all he needed, more hero worship. But then he thought he could maybe use that. To 'save her' hadn't been his main objective. His thoughts had been more along the line of 'you can't leave the muggleborn to die, it'll be practically confirmation of your Dark Lord status.'

"I was in the bathroom and then the troll just came in and started trying to hit me with it's club." Granger rambled, her voice shaky.

Harry turned to look at her and caught Professor Snape's intense glare. Oh he was definitely angry, furious even, but there seemed to be a question in his eyes too. Harry hoped it was, how did he kill a mountain troll and not Where did he learn a spell he made and only shared with the Dark Lord?

Granger's eyes kept flickering between the near decapitated troll and the growing pool of blood that would hopefully not soak into his boots, the teachers and himself. Her robes were stained and a bit wet and there were splitters in her hair. Her splotchy face made it obvious she had been crying but Harry thought that might have been before the attack.

"How did a troll even get in?" She continued. "The mountains are kind of far even for a troll? And wouldn't it have been attracted to Hogsmeade first? How did it get past the Wards?"

Harry thought that rather obvious. Someone had lured it here and let it in.

Then Granger started to shake and her eyes focused more on the body between them.

"She's going into shock." He pointed out to the surrounding grown-ups.

"Yes, come Miss Granger, lets get you up to the infirmary." Professor McGonagall made her way around the troll and put her arm around the girl and started leading her away.

She gave Snape a significant look and glanced at him before she left. Harry reluctantly turned back to the other professors.

"You can deal with this mess, can't you Quirrell?" Snape turned and swept away with a sharp, "Potter, with me!"

Harry walked quickly to catch up and tried to figure out where they were going. He didn't think returning to the common room, which was probably full of scared or excited children, covered head-to-toe in blood would be a good idea. Rather disgusting smelling blood.

Snape was limping slightly, even though Harry could tell he was doing his best not to let it show. Harry put that fact away and pretended he didn't notice.

Snape led him to his office. Harry followed him in when Snape made an impatient gesture. As the door shut behind them, Snape turned back to face him and started put locking and privacy charms on the door. His body was still in full-alert mode and being trapped in the room with his Head of House, who disliked him strongly, did nothing to relax him any. He watched the man's spell work and the magic as it wove around the door and the walls surrounding them.

He idly wondered if he could get through the spells quick enough to escape if he had to. He already had two plans formed in his head, that were doomed to die a short death, when Snape half limped over to his desk and turned to him.

"Why weren't you at the feast?" Snape voice was low but he said the words through closed teeth like he was doing everything he could not to completely blow up.

"I didn't feel like celebrating, Sir." He said as evenly as he could, he wasn't about to tell the man why he wasn't there.

Snape was taken aback for a second and it was obvious he did know why Harry wasn't at the feast. At least someone seemed to remember his parents death.

"Where were you?" Snape asked slightly more tempered.

"The astronomy tower, Sir." He clenched his hands and realised he was still holding his wand.

He hesitated in putting it away while locked in but after a moment, Harry tapped it with his thumb and pinky and it disappeared back into it's holster. He wouldn't have a chance anyway. Snape watched the move with calculating eyes.

"Why didn't you get a teacher, or at least a prefect, when you encountered the troll?" Snape was leaning over him slightly, being more intimidating that usual.

It didn't faze Harry though and he couldn't keep in the snort that answered that question.

"Yes, I can see the papers tomorrow. Boy-Who-Lived, comma, Slytherin, leaves muggleborn to die. The next Dark Lord, question mark." He raised his eyebrows at Snape daring him to disagree.

There was no way the Professor had missed what some of the more stupid students said about him.

Snape frowned at that response and Harry briefly wondered if he had crossed a line but he seemed to accept it. Silence hung between them and Harry didn't shift nervously as he'd seen other students do under Professor Snape's intimidating gaze. He matched his Head of House's stare and waited.

"And what spells, may I ask, a first year could possibly know that could kill a full grown mountain troll?" Snape seemed more curious now than angry.

This had to be answered carefully and Harry had been thinking how to arrange his reply since the teachers arrived in the corridor.

"I've had... Difficulty, shall we say, with some of the other students since my arrival. So I've taken to reading ahead in the subject of Defence." Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "I cast a few blasting hexes to get it's attention and lure it into the hall where I had more space. I blew up it's club and then put all I had into a cutting hex. I thought to slice the neck not decapitate it but I fear I put a little too much into it in my panic."

Vague but not too much so. Not the exact truth but none of it a lie either. Professor Snape would know that too. He wasn't the Head of Slytherin for nothing. But would he push?

The Professor just stood there and stared. The smell was starting to get to Harry and there wasn't anyway his Head of House didn't smell it too with a nose that large.

"May I go clean up Sir?"

"You will return to the dormitory." He turned and made his way around his desk.

"Like this?" He sneered.

He didn't want to turn up in the Slytherin common room trailing troll blood on the fine carpets. He didn't want everyone and their dog talking about him killing a troll. Some would take it as proof of his evilness, others would take it as a challenge. All in all it was attention that he could sorely do without.

"Everyone will want to know the troll has been handled." And a vicious smirk rose across his Head of House's face, as he flicked his wrist and the door burst open.

Harry forced his face carefully blank.

"Yes Sir." He gave him a brief nod and left.

His annoyance rose as he reached the entrance. He let out a sigh before straightening his back and spitting the password. The stone wall before him parted revealing the common room as up in arms as he'd ever seen it. Everyone was still in the room talking amongst themselves, waiting for Professor Snape to announce the Troll handled. He'd graciously left that task to Harry.

Everyone grew silent as they saw him stand there.

He stepped into the room and calmly headed for the his dorm so he could get under a shower and wash away the foul smell that drifted about with him.

"Apologises for the stench. The Troll is dead." He said to the room before mounting the stairs and looking at no one.

Maybe he had been more out of sorts than he realised because of his encounter with the troll? Maybe he was just tired? But as he threw his robes and shirt on to the floor in a pile so it was easier for the elves to clean up, he was surprised when the door opened behind him.

Usually he'd have locked it and set an alarm spell but he had forgotten.

Nott stood in the doorway, staring at the scars that littered Harry's torso.

Theodore Nott had grown up quite lonely. His mother, Mariella Nott nee Turpin had had a weak constitution and had died when he was eight. She'd had three stillborns after his birth and the last had killed her.

With only his father and no siblings, he had ended up spending quite a lot of his time alone in the Nott Estate. Lord Nott had a lot of work to do, what with his seat on the Wizengamot and the various other Nott Family interests. In Theo's free time, spent away from various tutors his father hired, he had gravitated to the Nott Family Library. There wasn't just spell books in there. There was all kinds of fiction and history books and journals written by his ancestors.

The only time he'd ever met other people his age was when his father was invited to parties and gatherings with the other pureblood families.

The problem with that was that the Malfoy Heir was an annoying snob with no appreciation for knowledge. The first time they'd met he'd made fun of the book Theo had brought with him and threatened to throw it in the fire. Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode had all been there and they'd all laughed along with Malfoy.

Theo had retaliated by finding the nursery and using his anger-filled 'accidental' magic to rip some of Malfoy's stuffed animals apart. He'd gotten in quite alot of trouble for embarrassing the Family in front of important allies.

Their subsequent meetings as they got older hadn't gone any better. Nott had just got more subtle and cunning in his revenge, usually setting up a way for Malfoy to embarrass himself. It always happened eventually because Draco had almost no tact and spent a lot of his time offending everyone around him.

This was why he had been sort of dreading going of to Hogwarts when he had received his acceptance letter. He knew he could do just as well if not better if he carried on his studies with his tutors but his Father had talked about all the connections he was sure to make. Because really that was what Hogwarts was about for the children of the Ancient and Noble Houses. Making alliances and forging relationships that they would go on to use as adults.

Nott didn't particularly want to form a relationship with the Malfoy Heir and he knew, as a likely Slytherin, he would be expected to follow the idiot. He'd ended up sharing a compartment on the train with future Ravenclaws and had a good conversation about various things they had all read and wondered if that would be the last time.

Then the Hat had put him in Slytherin and sealed his fate.

Except, Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, last Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter had been sorted into Slytherin with him. He had the Potter hair but had grown it out like the traditional Heads of Houses tended to do, as the last Heir to a Family without a Head he was well within his right. He had piercingly green eyes that seemed magical just for their unusual brightness and colour. He had walked with a straight back, confident without swaggering like Malfoy did, as he made his way to the stool.

When he sat across from Nott he had returned his nod with an exact equal depth, a sign he considered him an equal even with the hype surrounding The-Boy-Who-Lived. He had decided to watch the boy. He wasn't very subtle about it either.

As Potter dealt with Malfoy's shoddy attempt at showing his dominance, Nott had actually felt a small hope begin to grow in his chest. Maybe the next seven years of his life wouldn't be hell?

Potter turned out to be intelligent, driven and dryly humorous, if slightly clueless about some aspects of wizarding life. The fact that they had found themselves in the famous Hogwarts library on their first day had been almost a sign for celebration for Nott.

Their arithmancy project took up quite a bit of their time but Potter never complained or hinted that he would rather be playing exploding snap or the other banalities their year mates seemed so interested in. They also spent a lot of time reading and practising spells they'd read about. Potter focused on Defence against the Dark Arts as well as various jinxes, hexes and charms that could be used for concealment.

He'd brought some interesting books with him even if they were all on the very legal side of things and he hadn't hesitated to swap with Nott. He understood the Slytherin way of the deal. Plus he hadn't batted an eye at some of the darker books he'd asked his father to send.

They had chatted civil-ish with Greengrass and Zabini and Potter hadn't fallen for any of their conversational traps and he'd immediately agreed that Malfoy was only a Slytherin because of his abundant ambition and that he had no cunning to speak of.

It had all led Nott to make a decision he knew his father would probably disagree with. Potentially in a painful way. Especially since he didn't really know Potter's political views at all. If he had any.

He was going to pledge alliance.

Once he'd decided that, Theo had began wondering how exactly to go about doing it. He knew the words to say of course and the action that went with it. But he didn't know where to do it or when? He couldn't just walk down to the common room one morning and just... Do it. And there was no guarantee that Potter would know what he was doing.

But then Samhain had fallen on them and Potter had been distant. It had taken a moment to remember what should have been obvious. When wizards celebrated Halloween they were celebrating the anniversary of the Dark Lord's defeat. Most forgot the two people who had died that night.

He'd let Potter go off on his own at the boy's insistence and had sat in his place and ate the food looking at the overly muggle decorations with hidden disgust. Malfoy's disgust was realised with a long and loud rant while he stuffed himself full of sweets with almost as much gusto as his two followers. Then Quirrell had announced a Troll had gotten in somehow.

He'd immediately thought of Harry. Had he already gone back to the dorm? He'd said he was going up to the astronomy tower, that was as far away from the dungeons as one could get. Nott had been shuffled into the middle with the other scared first years, Malfoy looking particularly pale.

He had kept an eye on every turn and dark corridor hoping Potter would appear and ask him what was going on. Upon arriving at the dormitories he had run up the stairs to find their room empty. He'd rushed back down to find one of the prefects.

He'd ended up finding Gemma Fawley, who at least wasn't guaranteed to just shrug Potter's absence off and hope the troll got him.

"Potter's not here." He huffed at her shoulder urgently. "He wasn't at the feast."

"Well, where is he then?" She had glared down at him.

"I don't know. He was going to go up to the astronomy tower."

"Then he'll be fine up there." She'd flicked her pale blonde hair.

"But he could be coming back and he doesn't know about the Troll." He had insisted, raising his voice slightly.

She had huffed. "I'll go tell the seventh year prefects."

Theo didn't know how much good that would do but there wasn't anything else he could think to do. He'd hovered close to the fire with the other first years. Malfoy was spouting rubbish about what his father would do when he heard about it, but Zabini and Greengrass had moved over to him.

"Where's Potter?" Blaise asked quietly so the others wouldn't hear over Malfoy droning on.

"I don't know." He said probably a little too shortly.

"Why wasn't he at the feast with every body else?" Greengrass spoke sharply.

"Think about what day it is and who he is." He stared at the door to the common room willing Potter to appear.

Daphne made a noise at the back of her throat.

"Yes, of course." It wasn't an apology but it had an apologetic tone.

The sound of stone scrapping as the door opened cut through the common room and everyone turned, probably expecting to find Snape with news on the Troll roaming the corridors supposedly nearby.

Instead they found Potter, hands behind his straight back, covered head-to-toe in grey-ish viscera, looking for all to see like some kind of conquering hero. Or possibly an avenging demon.

"Apologises for the stench. The Troll is dead." He said to the room as he began to cross it without a second glance at anyone.

The silence in the room lasted until everyone heard the door close behind him and then it burst into conversation about what had just happened. Theo turned to Zabini thinking quickly.

"I'll get you a copy of Harry's history notes for the term so far and the next two lessons if you stall Malfoy as much as humanly possible."

Zabini looked as careless as normal but Theo could see the gleam in his eye. Harry was the only Slytherin that managed to stay awake in History but Potter knew they were practically gold and hadn't traded them for anything yet. He didn't think Harry would mind trading them for this.

"They'll be for your eyes only." He warned before allowing Zabini to shake his hand and follow Potter up the stairs, through their dorm and into the bathroom.

He pushed the door open and took in the scene before him as Potter turned on his heel, wand slipping into his hand.

Potter was scared. Not just whoops, there's been an accident. Scars that ran thick and rough across his back, one over the top of another at slightly different angles but he could tell the hand that held the whip was right handed.

It wasn't just his back either. At first he only saw the tops of his arms and shoulders where the whip had clearly ripped through the skin. Then he turned and saw his chest had another slash across it running from just under his right nipple to just above his left hip. An old, quite large burn wrapped around his right arm, as if something boiling had splashed it.

He was skinny too, skinnier than Nott had realised. Thinner than he should have been. Theo couldn't have said he was all skin and bones though as a thin layer of wiry muscle covered his body that rippled and readied as Potter watched him.

"Close the door." Potter said, low and even, not taking is eyes of him.

He came back to himself and hurriedly closed the door behind him. Potter nodded to his left when he turned back around. Then he watched Potter fired privacy spells at the door.

Green eyes focused on him. Potter didn't put his wand back in the holster strapped to his burnt arm.

"What happened?" He found himself asking. "With the Troll."

Potter didn't answer at first. He watched Nott with a blank face. Potter was particularly good at blank faces, especially for an eleven year old. The scattered marks that littered his skin were probably why.

"I killed it." He said it as if he'd been talking about the weather.

Silence passed between them. Theo let the shock ripple through him. He'd killed it. As it subsided another feeling began to sweep him up. Excitement.

This was the moment.

He knew Potter was powerful and this just proved it. Theo knew he wouldn't have stood a chance against a troll. He didn't know what Potter could or would do but he knew he wanted to be on Potter's side of whatever was going to happen.

"I, Theodore Nott, pledge allegiance to you, Harry Potter, for the remainder of our school days." He intoned, holding out his left arm for Potter to take.

He visible started, standing straighter and hesitantly putting away his wand. Then he took a step, crossing the space between them and grasped Nott's arm just below the elbow.

"I, Harry Potter, accept this pledge and your allegiance for the remainder of our school days. So mote it be."

The magic ran and settled over the two of them. Potter didn't shiver as he had when they made the secrecy oath between them. He arm flexed as he let go of Theo. His piercing gaze had yet to leave him.

He let his own gaze drop to take in the lines drawn across the other boys flesh more obviously. He knew Harry had grown up with his muggleborn mother's sister and her family. He'd gotten the feeling that they didn't get on. Potter purposefully didn't talk about them and while it might have been for security reasons, it had made Nott wonder. When he did it was 'My Aunt' and 'My Uncle' or 'The Dursleys', never 'My family' or 'My House' or their names. There was a noticeable distance.

The scars filled in gaps and told the rest of the tale. They were very deliberate, very violent. And he'd been left to heal on his own. On the rare occasion his father resorted to violence he always healed Theo after as if it had never happened. He couldn't have his Heir covered in scars, it could only reflect badly on him.

Potter's eyes grew wary once again but they didn't hold the almost inhumanly blank look that they had when he entered.

"This is a secret." Harry said with an edge in his voice that dared Nott to repute it.

"Of course." Nott nodded his head slightly. He hesitated before adding. "My father is not a nice man."

He wasn't going to say anymore and by the look on Potter's face he knew he wouldn't have to. The other boy leant on the sink and sighed, allowing himself to look a bit more tired. Harry went to run a slightly shaking hand through his hair but the moment he encountered what Theo assumed to be Troll blood, he grimaced.

"I need a shower or two." Harry looked up at Theo again, searching his eyes for something. "Will you go check out the common room? See if you can find out how everyone is taking this."

Theo smirked and nodded, knowing it would be helpful to know if the two of them were likely to get jumped tomorrow.

"I bribed Zabini with your history notes to run interference on Malfoy, so you should be alone for a while." He called over his shoulder as he slipped out of the door, after Potter unlocked it.

As he entered the common room to the still flowing hub-bub of wild gossip and mumbled schemes, he felt elated under his cool Slytherin mask with only the barest smirk. He'd never expected Hogwarts to be so great.


End file.
